


Take my Hand

by enduringmadness



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8 (2018), oceans 8, oceans eight
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/F, Slow Burn, mentions of Lou/Debbie, minor charcter sucide mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enduringmadness/pseuds/enduringmadness
Summary: The months leading up to the Met Gala were fraught with tension between Rose and Daphne. This is a slow burn of how their relationship came to be. A retelling of the Gala night and how Daphne and Rose came to care for one another.(Originally a one-shot)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for saphique as part of a fic exchange.  
> Was originally supost to be, what if Daphne never let go of Rose's hand after the interview.
> 
> If anyone has any prompt feel free to message me.

Rose’s palms were sweaty. Fists clenched in her lap, as she resisted the urge to wipe them on her dress as her nerves thrummed. She sat beside Daphne in her very expensive stretch limo, the Toussaine’s personal escorts and Daphne's date sat across from them. All of them dressed to the nines for the Met.

 

‘This is really happening’ Rose thought, trying to keep her breathing even, ‘Tonight is the only thing standing between you and prison. Don’t you dare get sick, don’t you dare Rose.’ A frown working its way onto her face as her stomach flipped. She felt more sick from worry then when she had watched her disaster of a show. The flight to nowhere. Looking back on it now everything had been so simple.

“I never said, but I love the dress. I should have trusted your judgement in the beginning.” Daphne broke the silence, twisting in the leather seat towards Rose. Her cloaks trail piled on the seat between them, a neatly folded pink barrier. The Toussaint glittering with each streetlamp that passed by the limo’s window from her neck. Her voice startling Rose out of her thoughts. The designer’s fist gripping her dress on instinct.  
‘Well that solves the clammy palms.’ Rose inwardly sighed, turning her attention to the actress.

“You like it,” The answer was given on autopilot, robotic in nature and devoid of most emotion. Rose blinking stupidly at Daphne as her brain caught up to what had been actually said, “Great!” Enthusiasm doubling to make up for her last statement as Rose mentally checked into the conversation.

“I mean that makes me so happy that you like it. It was an honor to work on you, with you. You really are the perfect model to create from.”

“Oh don’t stop,” Tinkling laughter filling the limo as Daphne swatter Rose’s bare shoulder in teasing manner, “Tell me more about how you love me.” Leaning into Rose’s space, fingers tracing the Toussaint as they had been doing since it was first laid up her ample chest. Seemingly unable to help themselves.  
Rose wet her lips, wishing she had her sunglasses on in the car but she had decided it would have be rude. It would be so much easier to avoid the awkwardness of all the gazes upon her. Her eyes flicking over to Clyde… Clint? Whatever his name, Daphne was flirting more with her then him and he was Daphne’s date.  
Rose’s heart gave a flutter as the warmth of that thought washed through her. The heat flushing her cheeks. Daphne’s unfaltering perfect smile, teeth pearly white and straight, ready to eat Rose alive. Feasting upon any complement Rose was willing to feed her.

“We’re here. Ladies.” One of the suited escorts said, coughing to get their attention. Tearing herself away from Daphne, grateful for the interruption. Rose had been struggling with how to answer Daphne’s comment.

The bald service men exited the car first, Claude on his heels. Rose had stopped attempting to remember their names that morning and had settled on The Bald One and Not Bald.  
“How do I look?” It was phrased as a question but Rose knew Daphne was fishing for one last complement.

“Like a hundred and fifty million dollars.” A small smile accompanying Rose’s attempt at a joke.

Daphne gave her a brief wink then turned to the flashing lights outside the limo door, a smile ready for the cameras. Taking Claude’s offered arm as Rose ducked out of the limo, the fifteen foot long cape’s trail gathered in her arms. No time to sit and think. Rose had a job to focus on now and damn it she was going to do it well.

Rose tottering behind them, floral headdress waving wildly with each step. Sunglasses in place, lips pursed in concentration. A warning to any that attempted to step in her way. Her only goal was keeping the train off the ground until they reached the red carpet. She would not have her work ruined and dragged through the dirt. Daphne pausing at the beginning of the red carpet. Camera lights flaring to life. Posing, Claude on her arm, dazzling those around her more than the flashing lights.  
Laying the train down carefully, Rose watching it unwind as Daphne continued walking. Tugging the edges to give it the best effect as it flowed outwards.  
Quickening her step Rose glanced back as they progressed, to make sure no one was stepping on it. Almost walking into Daphne when she stopped to speak with a familiar blogger. Teetering back a few steps before regaining her balance. The movement drawing the attention of Daphne and the man.  
Rose was glad for her glasses as she glared at the little weasel of a man. Acting like they were friendly when Daphne asked if they knew each other. What a laugh. He had wrote those horrible things about her work. Sniffing with indigence Rose turned away, phasing out the rat man out.

“A hundred and fifty million actually,” Daphne let out a laugh turning to Rose as if it’s an in joke between them. “We really must be going now. So nice speaking with you though.” Brushing lightly across Rose’s shoulders, signalling her to follow. Daphne continuing down the red carpet, Rose tight on her heels. Claude was no longer insight, and Rose had Daphne to herself.  
Rose let her jaw unclench as weasel was left in their wake. Looking around at all the other celebrities before a light tap on her shoulder drew her attention back. Daphne was closer than she thought, a kind inquisitive smile on her face.

“You alright?” 

“Yes,” Rose answered quickly, her palms beginning to clam up. Cocking her head to the side Daphne reached out, lifting Rose’d glasses so they resting on the blonde curls.

“That’s better, now tell me the truth.” Her voice growing firm. Rose hesitating only a moment,

“I, don’t like that man.” Scowling, Rose turned slightly breaking eye contact, “He’s written some rather cruel things about me on his blog.”  
“Well forget about him, any interview I give shall sing you praises.” Rose’s lip twitched in a small smile. Feeling better.  
Daphne continued walking and Rose followed until they were stopped again by a more reputable reporter. Stepping to the side so Daphne could talk without her employee breathing down her neck.  
Rose scanning the crowds for any of the girls but was unable to spot any familiar faces of her crew. The familiar celebrities were numerous, it was quite the turn out. Daphne’s voice drifting in and out of her ears, the cadence soothing. Rose was content to stand and listen all night but was pulled into the conversation. Figuratively and literally.  
Flinching in shock as long warm finger gripped hers, tightening and drawing her closer. Almost hip to hip. 

“Rose Weil, she did an amazing job.” Rose flicked her head around, her head piece bobbing erratically as her gaze shifted between the reporter and the actress. She had no idea what they had been talking about.

 

“What was your inspiration for this dress?” The reporter asked, tipping the microphone to Rose. Her mind was blank. Mouth opening at the question and she glanced at Daphne, who hadn’t released her hand. The woman was giving her an encouraging smile and Rose blurted out the first thing on her mind,

“Her!” Rose felt a light brush against her hand from Daphne’s thumb. It left a tingle in its wake, causing her to shiver slightly. Rose gathered herself, straightening her poster. Determination settling in her stomach, giving her courage. She hadn’t told Daphne or the girls the inspiration for the dress. The real inspiration. After tonight she might never have another chance to let Daphne know she was truly inspired by her. Not just the job but the woman.

“The day I met Miss. Kluger, she was wearing a Gar’Banna shawl and the way she removed it to expose her shoulders. Magnificent.” Gesturing her free hand with a flare, in a poor attempt of mimicry of Daphne, “It was such a regal movement that I knew I had to capture. I had to play off how rattled it made me. To be inspired by such a simple movement after so many years, well it was a bit frightening.”  
Sneaking a glance at Daphne’s expression from the corner of her eye. Daphne wore shock and intrigue well. Rose swallowed and continued, knowing if she stopped now it she would never be able to finish,

“The train of the cloak runs fifteen feet long, this was very deliberate. Some would say it is excessive. But I wanted to capture the royal aspect that Miss. Kluger exudes. Before this she was a Princess.” Rose waved their joined hands up and down at Daphne. Wishing the world would look at her and see what Rose did. An Enchanter. Absolutely bewitching.

“Tonight is her inauguration, where she is crowned Queen. The dress and the accessories represent the crown jewels and ceremonial dress of the Royal family. She needed a long train to demonstrate that the people are so far behind her.”  
A squeezing of her hand stopping the gesturing. Focusing over on Daphne, seeing a genuine look of affection on her face. Rose couldn’t turn away.

“And by accessories, you mean the Toussaint.” The reporter prompted breaking the spell. Dragging her attention to the reporter, Rose coughed lightly to cover her embarrassment.

 

“Yes that’s what I meant. A Queen must have the best to look her best. I am honored I was able to work with the vision Miss. Kluger is.”

“Well it seems that you have found your new muse.”

The reported turned to Daphne asking a few more questions. Any attempts to step away from Daphne was thwarted. Her hand clenching in a vice grip when Rose made to leave her side. Only loosening when Rose remained still. Rose spent the remainder of the interview time trying to collect herself. It was rather hard, as the soft cool hand was still entwined with hers. Her own palm starting to grow sweaty as she had a moment to think.  
‘How can she still want to hold my hand?’ Rose bit her lip thinking, eyes wide as a scared kitten. ‘I can’t believe I said all that out loud. And on the record. Rose you idiot!’

Daphne didn’t let go after the interview as they made their way past all the photographers down the red carpet. A small tug and Rose was stumbling as Daphne dragged her along. Eyebrow arching in question. Rose gave a panicked shake of her head, headpiece almost coming loose despite the numerous pins. Daphne seemed to understand her need to remain quite. Respecting Rose’s state of shock induced from a rare moment of boldness.  
Linking their arms instead; it was a relief and steadied Rose. 

It wasn’t until Claude stepped up, offering his arm as they approached the steps to the Met that Daphne released contact from Rose.  
Drifting ahead of them, not wanting Daphne to see the easy to read disappointment laid across her face. Her fingers were warm from Daphne’s as they dug into her skirt. Lifting it to avoid tripping on the stairs and making an even bigger fool of herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palm pressed flat to the soft table cloth to stop them from fidgeting, picking at her dress or anything else she could get her hands on. Her head swiveling as she watched the room for Daphne’s entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Alwayshope  
> Was planning to write around the scene of Rose receiving her Diamond choker but I didn't even get to it. Didn't even make it to the soup.  
> So looks like there might be another chap.
> 
> If any one has prompt feel free to message me

The lavish people made their way into the equally lavish dining room, murmuring happily at the evenings progression. Rose was among them, her step quicker than most as she bee-lined to her assigned table. Floral headdress easy to spot amidst the hat-less, bare-haired somebodys. Practically waving to everyone she passed with it. Deftly weaving between the styled bodies, wanting the time to collect herself before her table-mates arrived. Decorative paper name plates sat in front of each chair. Written on eggshell white stationary in swooping gold embossed cursive; she knew which seat was hers but anxiety had her reading each one. Just in case.  
Sitting gingerly in her rather comfortable dining chair, she scooted it in closer to the table. Palm pressed flat to the soft table cloth to stop them from fidgeting, picking at her dress or anything else within reach. Her head swiveling as she watched the room for Daphne’s entrance.

  
After they parted at the Met’s front stairs Rose had lost track of the star. Disappearing with Claude, his large meaty hand resting on the small of Daphne’s back. Guiding her along and away as Rose watched from the sidelines. Her throat clenching around a ball of jealousy inching its way up, choking her. Threatening to burst from her mouth at any moment. Her face flushing with the effort not to follow after them.  
Tear Claude's hands off of Daphne’s body with an angry swipe. Replace them with her own as she took his place, hanging on Daphne’s every word. A fire in her eyes to match the one in her belly. Her throat was growing dry and scratchy from all the clawing from the little green monster.  
So Rose was grateful when one of the servers approached her perch along the wall, a tray of champagne flutes balanced perfectly on her steady hands. Subconsciously admiring the cut of the woman’s suit out of the corner of her eye as she accepted the drink with a quiet thanks, focus never leaving the pink figure fading into the crowd. Rose took a large drink. Washing the emotions back down to her stomach where they belonged. Where they could flutter around with the bubbly without threatening to escape from between her lips.

“Looking good Rosie, but maybe you should stop sucking on that lemon.”  
The compliment, the suggestion, while given quietly just between them, was said in such a direct and casual way it startled her out of her staring. Rose fixed the server with a confused gazed, how did the woman know her name. Why was she speaking so candidly with her. Irish accent heavy, laden with bewilderment as Rose murmured,

“Lemon? I’m not eating a...oh” Rose trailed off as she gave the woman’s face a proper look.  
It was Constance; who gave her a wink, her easy going grin a relief to Rose and the designer returned it with a hesitant one of her own.

“Ohh, don’t you just look dashing in your suit dear, I barely recognized you.” Rose’s hand reached out to smooth down Constance’s laple automatically, years of habit ingrained in the gesture. Her gaze shifting away from her friend, back to the crowd. Hand drifting absentmindedly over Constance's front as she scanned the masses, unable to spot Daphne.

“Figured you could use a drink,” Constance cocked her head to the side giving Rose a once over. Watching the moment Rose’s mind checked back in to realize what her body was doing. Muscles tensing minutely as she removed her wandering fingers with a jerk. Crossing the arm over her chest to tuck the hand out of the way, sheepish apologetic smile on her lips, “You were looking pretty mooney. You okay?”  
Rose’s eyes found the floor, her lips pulling down. Grip tightening on her side, giving herself a one armed hug. A morning puppy that had been left behind and was in need of a good cuddle, adorable and heart wrenching. She omitted a Hmm. It was small, sad, barely audible but acknowledging Constance’s words.

“Maybe you should put your shades back on,” Constance suggested, hand itching to reach out and pinch the glasses just for the hell of it. To make the designer laugh. Rose perked up, meeting Constance's stare.

“Daphne likes them up,” Rose’s own hand touched the frames immediately as if reading Constance’s mind and needing to reassure herself they were still there. Just where Daphne had left them.

“Yeah cause you're so easy to read. You're a walking talking definition of ‘The eyes are the window to the soul’ bullshit.” Rolling her eyes along with the statement.

“Oh,” The hand lowering slowly, disappointment radiating off of Rose in waves. Whispering softly, “Is that a bad thing?”

“On a job it is, rest of the time it naahh.”

Neither woman spoke, the silence stretching between them. Rose’s lips pursed as she was lost in thought again; contemplating Constance’s words.  
The Younger woman rocked up and down on her heels, casually offering her tray of champagne to a passing celebrity. The man plucked two flutes, leaving the tray empty and she tucked the it beneath her arm.

“Look, I got to get back to work,” She paused, face twisting in a way Rose recognized. The Decider, Rose had dubbed it. It was the expression that usually preceded some very frank advice, delivered in the blunt way that was just... Constance, “Normally I’d say go for it girl. Hit that, get some action, but you know the whole job thing so…you know. I’ll set you up on tinder after this is all over. A’ite. Get you over your crush and all that.”

She turned and walked away. Ponytail swishing as she marched. Leaving Rose gaping after her, glass hanging loosely in her fingertips, having never quite made it to her lips a second time. Trying to work out just what had been said to her. Eyes going from wide and stunned to squinted while staring towards the ceiling. Replaying the last part of the conversation over in her mind. What was tinder?  
Constance is sweet for offering, Rose thought, but she didn’t need help getting over her pining for Daphne, she was quite capable of doing so herself. Had done so for a number of other infatuations over the years. She had a routine. And this time, Rose had already prepared.

An extra large jar of Nuetella waiting in the fridge for her at home along with an ice pack. She knew tonight she would grab the jar, shuffle to back to her bedroom in Lou’s home. Biting her lip to keep her composure just a little longer as she made her way past all the girls. Gently brushing off their offers of drinks and celebrations feigning being too tired.  
Collapse face first onto the deep blue comforter and cry her heart out. Sobs muffled by the fabric, growing wet with tears and mucus until she ran dry. She would than crack open the jar, spooning the chocolaty goodness between lips red from her gnawing. Wiping the mascara streaks from her blotchy cheeks. Devouring at least half the jar before passing out, eyes to sore to remain open a moment longer.  
In the morning Rose would wake, neck stiff and head pounding. She would peel off her clothes from the night before, search her closet for the comfy loose clothing she had brought from her own home, knowing this was coming.  
Drag herself down to the kitchen with her sunglasses perched on her angular nose so the girls didn’t see her red puffy eyes. Flop into the nearest chair and rest. Ice pack balanced on her forehead while the girls talk amongst themselves. Their voices a soothing background noise, as she disassociated above all of them. Eventually the girls talk lulling her back to sleep.  
Rose was ready, the girls were a new addition but her coping mechanism remained the same.

Tammy crossed in her line of sight, black dress sparking in the lights like millions of tiny stars, clipboard in hand. Catching Rose’s eye, she widened her own inclining her head to the side forcefully, lips tightening. Jerking her head towards the next room again when Rose just stood watching her the first go round. Communicating non verbally in a way only a mother could ‘Get to your seat, stop fooling around. Do. Not. Blow. This.’  
Pushing off the wall Rose, merged into the steam of bodies heading to the dining room. Her game face on.

Daphne appeared in her sight, a lighthouse to her sinking ship. Her beam of radiance sweeping the crowd before settling solely on Rose as she approached, warming her to the core. The rule ‘never be seated when someone of great importance comes to sit near you’ was deeply ingrained in Rose. Her parents insisting she take etiquette lessons when she was a young girl in frilly stockings, grass stains on the knees. The designer popped up with less grace then she would have liked as Daphne reached her side. Her knee catching on the underside of the table. Empty glasses wobbling. Silently cursing her inability to remain calm and collected in the star’s presence.  
The movement would have been met with a smack of the cane from her etiquette professor, had he seen it. Sitting quickly alongside Daphne as she lowered into her own seat, taking care of the long train.  
Her hands seeming to have a mind of their own as they flitted over to Daphne’s cloak the second the diva was remotely settled, smoothing out the wrinkles that had managed to worm their way into the fabric. Rose glared over at meat hands, instinct told her he was to blame for mussing the perfection that was Daphne Kluger.  
Fingers lingered, craving a few extra moments of contact. This would be the last night Rose would be able to freely touch Daphne, so Rose indulge herself. Let the other woman chalk it up as one of her odd quirks. Rose felt Daphne lean into her touch, as she smoothed the already tidied fabric.

“Rose would you mind terribly undoing the cloak, it was giving me trouble earlier. But I’m sure your skilled fingers would be able to,” Daphne paused, rolling her neck as if it were stiff, eyes alighting on Rose’s, her words coming out as a sigh, “Make it come undone.” Rose paused her petting, a deer in the headlight look upon her face. It was becoming a common expression she wore around Daphne. Warm silky skin searing her palm, which was growing clammy rapidly.

“Oh! Yes of course! Umm, here, just let me,” Leaning close to better unclasp the masterfully hidden clasps, She ran her tongue over her lips nervously. Peeling the fabric away to expose that fabulous neck, “There. Does that feel better love? Less strain on your neck?” The concern in her tone was real, the Toussaint weighed six pounds and the cloak was at least ten.

“Ohhh yesss” Daphne purred, stretching like a cat, “Much better. I’m going to need to visit a masseuse after tonight.” She let out a laugh, charming those around her. Who laughed along with her. A hand alighting so casually upon Rose’s shoulder it had to be practiced. Her admiration for the actresses' skill soared. She made it look so natural, that it was normal to be touching her fashion designer instead of her date. It didn’t draw any attention from the now full table. Had Rose not been so hyper aware of every little thing Daphne did, it would never even have registered.  
“I should have taken your warnings of the weight more seriously.”

It was hard to think around Daphne, the woman’s presence leaving her flustered. Daphne seemed to take great pleasure in causing Rose to flush and avert her gaze. Rose had thought it would get easier the more time she spent with her, the original crush losing effect over time. It had for awhile. Rose’s hiring had been awkward, but Rose had her professionalism to fall back on. The first few fittings Rose’s mind raced with ideas. To busy to fully focus and be affected by Daphne’s radiance. Until Daphne had broken down over the paperclip necklace, shredding the veil that kept her crush at bay. Rose had to shower her with compliments. Easing the actress down from the edge of hysterics, single minded focused on Daphne and soothing her fears. The dresses design now solidified left Rose’s very active mind free to wander. Daphne became friendly, flirty and Rose lost all hope of making it through the job without making a fool of herself around the other woman.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time. Something, as light as air, something that allows you to float freely,” Brow furrowing, and Rose brought her knuckle up to chew on in thought, “Soie? Non. Beaucoup à clicher. Gazar peut-être très sexuel et confortable,” Accent heavy and thick. Her words more drawn out and sensual.

Rose so lost in thought she missed the way Daphne shuddered at the sound of her voice. Rose had always thought better when she listed fabric ideas off in french, it gave her an alternate perspective. Forced her mind to sharpen, to stop flitting about being distracted by any little thing. Exhilaration etching her features as new designs flooded her mind, sending gears turning that had be lying dormant collecting dust for the past decade. Locking eyes with Daphne she leaned in body thrumming with excitement,

“I could do wonders on you with gazar,” Breathless with the possibilities Rose’s usual shyness was shoved aside. Imagining Daphne in swathed in sheer fabric, layered just right to be on the dangerous side of modest. It would take work, and skill.

“Next time hmmm?” Daphne rasped, her tone husker then normal. It gave Rose pause,

“Oh, umm. Right, that is if you would like to work together in the future,” She reigned in her eagerness, locking the idea of Daphne’s body draped in sheer fabric away for a later date. Even though there would be no reason to connect Rose to the Toussaint being stolen later, it didn’t mean Daphne would want to work with Rose again. After all the only reason she had been hired in the first place was because of manipulation. Not that Daphne knew that.  
Rose settled back so her chair wasn’t in danger of tipping over any longer. Clearing her throat, keenly aware of the many eyes watching her and Daphne. Feeling them boring into her skin.

“I’d like that.” Rose’s heart stopped. She swore it actually stopped, as her breath caught, cheeks flaring. Hanging on every word, “Perhaps we can discuss it more over drinks later this week.” Nodding her head in acknowledgement. But unable to bring herself to meet Daphne’s eyes. Constance's words ringing in her ears ‘You're so easy to read.’ The last thing she wanted was Daphne seeing the love sick look shining from within. Lou’s words from in the taxi cab before meeting Daphne for the first time also crept out of the recesses of her mind ‘Indifference, it’s an aphrodisiac.’ So maybe she had another reason for not gazing at Daphne.

As Daphne was drawn back into conversation with the rest of the table, Rose wished she had something to draw with. The itch to sketch her design on a napkin before she forgot was driving her crazy. She eyed the cloth napkins, it would be frowned upon to sketch on them but Rose wouldn't allow that to stop her vision coming to light; if it really came down to it. Now she just needed to find a pen or pencil.

Glancing around she saw Constance making her way through the tables, pouring drinks a few tables over. Rose waved her over, ignoring the slightly panicked look the younger woman gave her as their eyes met.

“Can I refill your drink Ma’am?” Constance asked politely, after having made her way over, staying in character. Keeping her voice low and back to Daphne.

“No, my drink is fine. Could you find me a pen and paper. That would be ideal but I would settle for just the pen.” Rose gave her a feverishly bright smile, and Constance paused unsure how to proceed. “Please dear,”

“I will see what I can do Ma’am.” Constance straightened as Rose thanked her, weaving her way through the tables. Ducking around a corner as Tammy’s voice cut through her earpiece,

“What’s wrong? What was Rose so frantic about?” Constance switched her champagne bottle for a fresh one,

“She wants a pen.” The was silence for a beat,

“A pen, she almost blew your cover for a pen?” The disbelief was palpable. Debbie’s voice cut Tammy off from further whispered exclamations,

“What can you do, the woman is inspired. Constance just lift Tim Tam’s pen and be done with it,”

“You got it boss,” Constance smirked at Tammy’s indignant sputters.

“Excuse you I need my pen. Don’t you dare Constance. Constance no!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been without internet while I've been camping this week, however I have managed to get a few chapters done so I hope to be posting more this week. :) Thanks to everyone who left such nice comments!

Daphne made light meaningless conversation with their table, catching up with a few that she knew from previous movies and jobs. Laughing with Claude as he made a less than funny joke, but looks got you far in the world. Rose sat, reading glasses perching on the edge of her nose ignoring all of it. Hand flying rapidly over her napkin, speaking quietly under her breath as she drew.    
  
“Gather it here on the hip and leave the legs loose.” Rose was inraptured, mind focused. Demeanor shifting from anxious and jittery to confident and sure with each stoke. Not caring if the celebrities found her incredibly rude. Barely sparing them a thought since Constance had delivered a pen into her waiting palm,  “The split with lead the eye down the leg, hmmm, shoes what shoes.” Rose paused, tapping her lips with the pen as she thought. Shaking her head slightly, the shoes would come later, she shouldn't allow her mind to wonder before she was done. Resuming her sketching, with gusto. The dress coming to life in a matter of minutes. Her pen slowing, hashing in a last few lines when Rose felt eyes upon her. The hair on the back of her neck standing up. A shadow fell across her napkin and Rose froze. Daphne was leaning over to better see what she had been working on.   
  
“Oooo, is that Gaza?” Chocolate brown eyes twinkling in the overhead lights.   
  
“Gazar, dear,”Rose corrected quitely, shoulders hunching, fighting the urge to hide her work. It wasn’t ready, “It’s just a rough sketch, not umm, not… concrete.” Rose removed her glasses slipping them back inside her clutch. Voice trailing off, unsure of the point she was trying to make when she saw Daphne smirking at her.   
  
“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it again, French was never my strong suit. My torture said I butchered the language” Daphne laughed, leaning close, chin resting on her palm.    
  
"Oh," She was intrigued, shifting forward in her seat, eyes widening, brows rising and lips pushing out in the O shape, "You speak french?" Rose said with pleasant surprise. It frustrated her to no end when she was in the zone, working on a model, speaking french to better focus only to be thrown off her groove by a simpering idiot. Needing her to stop and translate to those around her, it wasn't that hard a language to learn. Daphne knowing french was wonderful, even if she couldn't speak it well, Rose appreciated the effort it showed.   
  
"I do, Mother thought it was a good idea," Teeth showing as she smiled. Body giving a shimming sway, like a cobra dancing along with its snake charmer. Posing for the audience but ready to strike at any moment if it so wished, “Is that dress for me?”   
  
“I hope so, if you end up liking the final sketches.” Rose darkened some of the outer edges on the dress, giving it depth and solidifying it.   
  
“Sketches? As in multiple?” Daphne cocked an eyebrow in surprise.   
  
“Oh yes, this is just one on my ideas,” Rose ducked her head bashful, but with growing eagerness. Like a child who wished her drawings to be hung on the fridge like they used to. Having been rejected so many times in the recent years it hurt to even bring her work forth. Yet still willing to try one more time, able to find the courage for the right person. She patted the cloth lightly as she spoke, keeping pace with her rapid breathy exhilarated speech,   
  
“The others are on the back. This one would be the centerpiece of the collection. Would you like to see the others? I wasn’t able to fit many on the napkin but it will tide me over until I can get to my sketchbook tonight.” Flippin the napkin over, showing the various figures posing in sensual fabrics. They were quick, just enough to catch the movement and draping of the fabric as it fell. When there was no response from Daphne, Rose felt her excited smile falter. Silence hadn’t bowed well for her the last few times she had show her ideas.   
  
“You designed all of these because of me. In less then ten minutes,”  The actress’ tone was quite, awed and she reached out to trace the edge of the napkin. Rose thought her eyes gleamed more so than usual.   
  
“For you,” Rose assured her, “Do, do you not like them? I can think of something else,” A little voice whispering doubts in her mind. Fingers twitching, wanting to hide the sketches from view.   
  
“Their gorgeous Rose. You make them look like they are moving. Like a captured photo,” Daphne blinked rapidly and stared at the sketches. Clearing her throat, her voice a little strained, “No one has ever done something like that for me before. I mean, I know I’m inspiring,” Hand giving a dismissive wave in front of her face, Daphne let out a laugh at her own joke that was choked with emotion.  Suitably dabbing beneath her eyes with a index finger, checking her makeup.    
  
Just then the waiter interrupted, setting their plates down in front of them. Rose thanked the man in a barely audible voice, glancing up at him briefly. Catching his eye before ducking her head back down to set her secondary napkin he had slipped her across her lap. Daphne was back to her regular polished self by the time all the plates were set and Rose looked over to her once again. So she tucked her sketches under her plate for safe keeping. Rose felt a smile tugging at the right side of her mouth. Daphne approved. It had been so long since she had been excited about her work, proud of her ideas. She let the feeling settle in her stomach like a warm drink on a cold winter night.   
Daphne dug right into her soup, moaning in delight. Rose, eyes widening with concern as she watched Daphne ingest a second spoonful. Rose had told the crew Daphne usually stayed light on her meals during functions, so Lou decided to put more of the substance to make her ill in Daphne's meal just incase she didn’t eat very much. Rose swallowed hard as another large spoonful was pushed between bright pink full lips. Daphne opened her eyes catching Rose's stare. Bringing a hand up to cover her mouth from view.   
  
“Sorry, I haven’t eaten anything all day.” She said, sheepish. As if she might get a scolding. Rose had recently begun to feed Daphne snacks as she worked. Apple slices here, yogurt cups there. Sometimes much to Daphne's poorly concealed delight, biscuits Rose made from her mother's special recipe passed down to her in her mother's will.    
The fitting concluded with them having dinner or lunch afterwards. Chatting about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily between them. Daphne often complaining about the latest thing Penelope Stern had done and how Daphne now had to try to one up her. Rose discussing the upcoming Paris Fashion week and how she wished to attend this year. A friendship blossoming between them; fed and watered with each word and meal. Becoming a routine since the first night three weeks ago.   


 

  
Rose sighed, lowering her arms to her lap, letting the pink fabric fall back into place. It was the third time in as many minutes that the actress' stomach had rumbled. Deep growls that said much on how empty her stomach was.   
  
“Love when was the last time you ate?” Rose tried to keep the annoyance from her voice. as she gazed up at Daphne in concern. Rubbing her temple, free of all but a few strands of hair that had escaped the piles on either side of her head. Pink sections standing out more as they caught the reflecting light of Daphne's dress. It was still early in the evening and Rose's hair hadn't yet become frazzled. But she had a feeling she would be running her fingers through the strands before the end of the night, ruining what little composure she had.    
If that agent of Daphne's was telling her to skip meals, then Rose would be having a very strongly worded conversation with him. The actress’ stomach had been making complaints every fitting they had but today was particularly bad. Neither of them could work this way. Daphne’s cheeks bloomed at the question, and her spine straightened. Shoulders pulling back and her tone grew was snippish. Defensive, compared to its earlier lightness.   
  
“Don’t worry, nothing since lunch. I knew I had a fitting. I can wait for dinner.” Rose blinked up at her from behind her dark rimmed spectacles, mouth ajar, unable to believe what she was hearing.   
  
“You haven’t eaten since-! What? That’s- It's nearly 7 o'clock!” Rose stood up, spluttering. Daphne took a subconscious step back at the anger covering the woman’s features. Raising a finger, Rose jabbed the air in front of Daphne, “Don’t move. I can not believe this,” Rose stormed over to her purse,  where it lay buried beneath her black suit jacket. Removed and set aside when she first entered Daphne's suite. Rummaging through its light blue pockets with viger. Pulling a slightly squashed granola bar from its depths. High topped black laced boots clomping across the floor as she made her way back to Daphne's side. Shoving it into Daphne’s hands as the woman shifted uncomfortably.   
  
“Here.” Rose sank back to the foot stool she had been sitting upon to work on Daphne’s hip seam more comfortably. Muttering heatedly under her breath. Daphne remained still, as if unsure how to react to the waves of angry radiating off the normally timid designer. The wrapper of the bar crinkled in her fingers and her stomach growled.   
Rose looked up at her, brows furrowed and lips pursed, glasses perched at the end of her nose. Anger dampening when they made eye contact. Rose thought she spotted a flash of desire flit across the woman's face before it was masked.   
  
“Eat it! Go on.” Waving her hand to urge her on. Daphne hesitated a moment more before she tore open the wrapper, sinking her teeth into the bar. Hunger making the chocolate taste sinfully good as it crumbled in her mouth. Her moan one of relief and pleasure. Rose noted the woman seemed more steady on her feet, and hoped Daphne hadn't been to light headed from hunger.    
  
“When I’m done this side we will take a break and I’ll call up some dinner for us.” Daphne nodded meekly as she took another bite, now that she started eating her stomach screamed for more. Rose met her eyes and her gaze softened, “What ever gave you the idea you couldn’t eat for so long before a fitting? I’m not a dentist, I don’t need you to starve yourself.” Daphne flushed, tongue flicking out to swipe the chocolate crumbs off her lips. Rose followed her tongues movement intently.   
  
“All the fitters I’ve been to since I was a child would complain about my stomach bulging. So I stopped eating before I came… and they would still complain. An hour turned into two than three and,” Daphne’s voice caught, “And they just kept proding and commenting. It was easier to just not eat the meal before each fitting to make them happy, I-“ Daphne broke off, tearing her eyes from Rose’s sympathetic ones.   
  
“Oh love.” Rose slipped her hand into the one hanging loose at Daphne’s side. The one with the now empty wrapper wiped hurriedly at Daphne’s eyes. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that. But they were abusive arseholes who don’t know their left from their right.” The older woman squeezed her hand, Irish lit very pronounced.

  
“Love, promise me you will stop going to them, find someone else. Because if they are telling you that then they are the worst fitters I’ve heard of.” There was a rage in the depth of those light brown eyes that held Daphne in place, it wasn’t detected at her, but for her.    
  
“Ok..” Daphne whispered. It was sinerce enough to satisfied Rose, who nodded.   
  
“Alright, now let's get you out of that dress and into something more comfortable so we can eat.” Rose's tone was light as she unzipped and helped Daphne step out of the dress pooled at her feet. She couldn’t help thinking of removing Daphne's dress in a non professional manner.   
  
“Normally people offer me dinner *before* getting me out of my dress.” Daphne let it slip off her tongue so casually it took Rose a moment to realise. The girls were right, she was very easy to read. Her flushed and stammering  timid self beginning to emerge once more. But Daphne touched her arm before Rose could turn away and finish shoving confident Rose rapidly back into her ill fitting mental closet. Daphne's smile was gentle,    
  
“I’m just teasing Rose. But for real… Thank you.” Rose licked her lips as she debated her next move. Confident Rose had only been partially sealed away,  and couldn't help flirting back,   
  
"Well, I believe I did promise you dinner before removing your clothing. It's not my fault you couldn't wait."   
  
Winking as she handed Daphne her robe , moving to hand the Gala dress upon the manichan. Clearing her throat she called over her shoulder, at the unmoving actress. Who wore a look of shock and surprise that was quickly shifting into flirty smirk.   
  
“What do you want to eat, love."   
  


  
  
“I’m being rude, so sorry,”   
  
“No your not love,” Rose reassured her, “Just slow down, I wouldn’t want you getting sick. I won’t let them take it away before you’re finished, don’t you worry.” Daphne’s grateful smile wrench at her heart. Who was going to make sure the woman ate properly if she never saw Daphne again. Make sure the someone’s new fitters didn’t make jabs about her weight.   
Rose turned to her own meal, picking at it as the worry twisted her stomach in knots. Here the poor woman hadn’t eaten all day and now they were going to make her sick. Seeing the bowl half empty, rose amended to herself. Very sick. Rose pushed it aside, forced a smile on her face as Daphne emptied her bowl. As Daphne began swapping stories with the other table members, the smile was no longer forced.   
  
The way Daphne’s eyes creased in the corners as she grinned, with genuine excitement and amusement, is adorable Rose thought. As she leaned her elbow on the table, head resting propped on top of her fist. Gazing at Daphne, eyes half lidded. The actress was retelling her meeting the actual queen. Rose sighed with contentment, fascinated. Mesmerized. Drink held in her hand but more interested in drinking in every word coming from Daphne’s lips. Wishing to know every detail she could gleam from the woman's presence before she vanished from her life. Rose hoped beyond all hope that the drinks later in the week would happen. But the little voice inside caused her to doubt.   
'It's just to placate you, she wanted to save face around the others. She won't call and if you do she’ll faigne being busy, suggest the week after. Each time you call she’ll push it back until you take the hint and stop calling.'

  
The little voice broke her happy stupor and she straightened, pushing against the tall back of her chair. Chewing her bottom lip as it began to pull down. Just one night she wanted that voice to shut up, stop planting doubts in her mind about anything and everything. Daphne said she would like to get drinks, and Daphne hadn’t lied to her, well not since their first meeting.    
No matter how many times she proved the voice wrong it still came back. Only seeming to fall silent when Rose back herself so far into a corner that she didn’t need the voice to point out her flaws because they were so plainly visible.    
The flight to nowhere was one of those times. She kept telling herself that everything was fine, that her designs were good, decent, not her top stuff but …okay. Trying to egg the voice into arguing back as it normally would. But it remained silent and she could feel its smug satisfaction. Weighing on her.   
Rose learned to fear it’s silent almost as much as she hated its chatter. So she didn’t want it to fall silent she wanted to stun it into submission.    
  
Rose shifted the once pristine napkin from under her plate. Wishing, needing to focus her mind on the possible future. Needed to remind herself, as long as the voice was talking she was probably heading in the right direction. Retrieving the pen that had been slipped to her by Constance. She added new details to her sketches. A sheer draping running along from wrist to shoulders, framing the figure. Rose paused, considering the image, head turning to the side. Maybe if it looped around the neck like a scarf, ends draping down from the back.     
She glance sidelong to Daphne again. She was laughing at something Claude had whispered in her ear, flute raised up brushing against her lips but not being committed to. Rose looked down at her sketch, saw Daphne in the faceless model. The picture coming to life, imitating the actress’ movements. Rose smile. It had been so many years since an idea had moved so fluidly on paper. Or in this case napkin. Yes this dress would do wonders for the woman. Would do wonders for herself.   
Ghoting down a few note of fabric, how many yards she would need and shades. As she checked back into the story as Daphne mention how you had to curtsy to the queen. Rose felt the need to keep her presence known, chiming in on the story. To stay in Daphne’s thoughts just a little longer. To see the kindness directed her way once more.   
  
“It’s true they do make you do that.” Rose nodded backing up Daphne’s claim.    
  
“SO there I was in a curtsy stand off with the Queen.” Daphne laughed, her hands grew animated when she was enraptured in telling a tale, Rose noted. More like a child, so unlike the controlled calculated movements ment to draw the eye and project what image she wished to craft. That her agent said would sell. The quick flails of hands, spoke volumes of the woman inside. Rose wished to see more of that woman. The crafted sexy persona may intimidate Rose to no end but the softer lonely heart drew her back in. She had started to notice her more and more in subtle movements and moments when it was just them. Rose felt elated that Daphne was growing more comfortable around Rose, enough to slip her mask off sometimes.   
  
Daphne trailed off in her story, swallowing quickly. Rose heard a gurgle emanating from Daphne and she reached out but didn’t touch remembering Debbie's warning. Claude didn’t hesitate, his hands were all over Daphne as he echoed Rose’s words.   
  
“You alright, love?” Daphne didn’t look over, eyes fixed on the table in front of her. One hand traveling down to rest over her stomach, while the other gripped the table tightly. She nodded quickly,   
  
“Yes I’m fine, Just... Fine-aghh.” She trailed off, snapping her mouth closed as she gagged lightly. Rose could see the panic as Daphne realised she needed nothing more then to find the nearest restroom to vomit. She bolted, hand covering her mouth. Knocking over in her chair in her haste, she looked back debating whether to stop to right it. Rose waved her on, reaching for the chair, watching as Daphne fled down the steps. Her escorts jumping into action to follow her as the actress shoved another guest aside in her rush. As she turned the corner to the restroom and was lost from Rose’s sight. Claude stood at the table reluctant to follow after her.   
Rose straightened the chair, tucking into place, before reaching for her champagne flute. Downing it in one gulp. She could see Tammy on the lower floor, finger pressed to her ear as she turned away. Game on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne's hand darted out, catching her wrist in a vice like grip.
> 
> “Stay,” Her voice shook, horse and cracking, “Please Rose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait between chapters. I litrally have the last chapter written but have been struggling to get the 2-3 chaps before that done.  
> Luckly it was a very slow day at work.  
> Tried to get some character development in this one, and some background head cannons I have.  
> Thank all of you who leave such nice comments, I hope I give you something worth the wait.  
> Love you all <3
> 
> ****THIS CHAP HAS A SUICIDE MENTION FOR A MINOR BACKGROUND CHARACTER******

It was done. Daphne had exited the bathroom, neck bare, and her security team lost their collective shit. All the guests, Rose included, had been ushered out of the moted dining room so the Toussaint detail and Met security could search for the necklace. The grumbling and complaints were loud and numerous. These people were used to having exceptions made especially for them. They didn’t take kindly to being told that ‘No they were not allowed to stay to watch,’ and ‘No, they couldn't stop to grab some chaphne for the road.’  
Rose brought her hand to her mouth, nibbling at her manicured nails. Nerves getting the better of her as she followed along in the vaguely organized stream of people. Ushered along by increasingly burly looking men wearing clean cut suits and stern glares. Turning to glance over her shoulder in search of Daphne.  
Rose caught a glimpse of bright sparkling pink and saw the actress wrapped up in her cloak. Sitting in a corner, being questioned by her personal guard. Daphne was arguing, defensive, Rose could tell. Even at this distance the furrowed brows, exaggerated eye rolls and jerky head motions that emphasized the spoken words Rose couldn't hear were obvious. Daphne caught her eye and reached a hand out from under the cloak. Gesturing towards Rose while the charming placating mask spilled into place.  
Rose’s pace had slowed as she watch Daphne trying to charm the men and the guest behind her stepped on her heels. She stumbled, and Daphne was lost from her sight.

“Sorry, sorry.” Rose hastily said as she bumped into the woman in front of her. The young blonde scoffed at her in anger.

“You better be! You almost ruined my dress!” Rose gave her a once over and wasn’t impressed. The baby blue sweetheart cut Loui Vuitton was at least four years out of season, even then it hadn't been the best collection, and it was very unflattering upon her anorexic frame. Rose's keen eye could spot subtly custom tailor seams. She couldn't help the small noise of disgust and contempt that escaped her. Whoever did this tailoring should swallow his pin cushion. Without the cushion. She squinted, apraising the work more intently, it was clean and hardly visable. Done by skilled hands, just not for this woman's body. This was definitely a hand me down then.  
  
“Stop looking at me like that you creep. Howard, do something!” Rose’s head gave a dull throb at the whine. The older gentleman whose arm the woman was clinging to glanced over to Rose then to his date. He seemed reluctant to get involved.

“Stella. Darling, I’ll buy you a new dress. Just ignore the florist, and have some more wine.”  
Tears threatened to surface; Rose was tired. Tired of playing nice, of all this acting. She just wanted to make it through the night and sleep. By tomorrow she would either be stinking rich or in prison orange; what did their opinions matter.

“You might want to go with him or you likely to be gifted another of his wife’s ill fitting cast-offs. Though I doubt it could be much worse than what you are wearing now.”

The shame that flared red across the man’s face confirmed Rose had been right to assume the dress once belonged to his wife. She didn’t care to find out if if he was still married, or is this Stella was his hopeful bride to be. Lifting her skirt, Rose descended the main stairs into the enormous entrance hall. Ignoring and leaving behind the mustach bristling with indignation and steam kettle screeches emanating behind her.

 

 

Eyes flitting from one side of the entrance gally to the other. Well dressed people pressing in on either side, trapping Rose in the center of the crowd. The heat from so many bodies in one place was stifling. The tightly packed throng had Rose shifting every time an arm brushed against her, loathing the feel of their skin touching hers. Crossing her arms to take up less space and to stop the old nervous nail biting habit from ruining her nails further, Rose stared up at the ceiling.  
Breathing deeply in through her nose and out from her mouth. Attempting to trick her mind into believing she was in a wide open space, suppressing the lurking claustrophobia.

"See look how far up the ceiling is, so much empty space between you and it. Breath, just breath. You're fine, everything. is. just. fine." The panic abated to a more tolerable level and she relaxed her muscles. Felt them release from near tearing to just high strung.

Trying desperatly to stop her restless shifting, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Any minute security would find the false necklace and the crowd would be ushered back inside. It was hard being the only one on the team without an earpiece, without being in the loop. If shit went sideways she wouldn't have any warning until security was at her side, grasping her elbow and asking her firmly to come with them. Not to make a fuss.

Rose wished Lou was by her side at this moment, she was so calming. A solid presence who alway knew what to do and could talk Rose down from her panics. Distracting Rose with a quick witted comment. Lou would tell her what to do.  
While Rose liked Debbie, their leader never spoke the whole truth. Always seemed to hold something back and have something up her sleeve; Lou on the other hand was brutally honest and Rose trusted her implicitly. It never crossed her mind to text Debbie the video of the big hiccup with the necklace clasp earlyer that morning. Lou had been the first and last to enter her mind. Rose trusted that the Australian would concoct a plan around the magnet, and obviously she had, given her current crowded situation.

'Had that really been just this morning, it seemed to have happened an age ago.' Rose thought. Her palms were sweaty, from nerves and the rapidly heating room. Discreetly Rose fanned herself with her clutch as minute after minute ticked by. Eavesdropping on the conversations flowing around her.

"Diamonds? All this fuss over some diamonds." A high female voice rang out shrilly above the rest.

"Could you let me back in, I really need to use the washroom." Gentle and simpering another woman cut, directing it at the security man watching over the people.

"I saw that Daphne Kluger, she was surrounded by bodyguards." The male voice let out a pompous laugh, and Rose cocked her head to the side with a small jerk at the mention of her employer’s name. Zeroing in on his words, hand stilling in its fanning as she concentrated, "I bet she won't be hosting any events anytime soon; Met or otherwise. I mean honestly she's such a drama queen. She's ruining the whole evening."

Rose ground her teeth, chewing the words fighting to be spoken. Grinding them to a pulp. Daphne could be dramatic, what actress or actor wasn't, but she wouldn't inconvenience so many people on purpose. Well not unless it was personal. Infact Rose would bet her share of the Toussaint that Daphne was trying to downplay the seriousness of the matter. The woman cared deeply about what others thought of her, and it must be eating at her that she’d interrupted the party, gaining the public's wrath. Rose wished she could be at the woman’s side to offer her some meger comfort. Daphne once emitted over Filet mignon one evening that her mother used to say the public opinion was incredibly important; and Daphne held those words close.

 

 

"I remember one night as she tucked me in, after I stayed up past my bedtime to say goodnight. She had just gotten home from the stage and the lamp cast her perfectly made up face in a soft orange glow. She was the epitome of beauty to me. What I strived to be. That was the night I decided I wanted to be just like her, I wanted to be an actress. She taught me everything I know." Daphne leaned over her bowl as she took a bite, a pleased hmm escaping her plum lips.

"And now?" Rose inquired, fork raised as she posed her question. Smokey eyes wide with honest intrigue. In awe that the other woman was opening up to her so readily. Debbie had briefed Rose, in the rapid fire and confusing way that she often did, that in all of Daphne’s interviews. her mother was off limits. The team leader didn’t specify why, not wanting to give Rose to many details that might trip her up. Concerned Rose might make a comment about something she shouldn’t know about Daphne’s life and make Daphne suspicious of her.

"Now, what?" Daphne, smiled quizzically but openly.

"What's your ideal beauty now?" Daphne paused, seeming to be really giving it some thought. Each of them continuing to eat as the lull in the conversation grew.

"It's going to sound cliche and fake," Daphne said hesitantly. Rose gave her a reassuring smile, "I guess a form of inner beauty. Don't get me wrong I will still always be charmed by a pretty face but if they aren't pretty on the inside too, I lose interest fast nowadays.” Daphne waved her hand nonchalantly.

“Kindness, now that is an inner beauty that can outshine any degree of looks. Kind people have this warmth that radiates from them. You know? Makes you want to bath in it, just be around them. Like you never realize how cold the world can be until you feel their heat.” Daphne propped her head on her hand and let out a wishful sigh.

“I hope I’ll meet someone like that one day. I think it would take a truly kind and caring person to look beyond my incredibly good looks and immense talent, to see the real me and still think me pretty... Well I think they would be pretty perfect to even put the effort in.” Her tone had softened at the end, and seemed momentarily confused that she had spoke so freely. Daphne looked faintly embarrassed and laughed awkwardly,

"Hah Look at me, I guess I just gone and describing my idea partner." Rose held back a scream of frustration, wanting to shout out, 'It's me! I can see how lovely you are beneath all that make-up, the sweet and thoughtful woman. Please look at me like that!' Instead she said,

"Great! I mean I think it’s, well it's wonderful to know what you want in a person.” Rose shook her head minutely to herself, her innervoice facepalming. ‘Great, Rose. Really.’

“You don’t think me shallow? I mean, wanting someone like that yet I’m still am drawn to a charming smile first.” Daphne scrutinized Rose, searching her features for signs of deception.

“Love, your own inner light shone through just now you know. You want a partner to see the real you and find you just as gorgeous as you are on the outside. The fact you are willing to do the same speaks for itself. You're smart enough not to settle just for a pretty face. I think people would love you all the more if you showed them that side of you. Let them see your inner kindness." She took a sip of her wine to help her suddenly dry mouth when Daphne brightened. The strong, rich sultry tones returning once more to caress Rose’s ears.

"My mother wouldn't have agreed with you. She used to say to me, 'Daphne, your public image is the most important thing. The audience will either ruin you or rise you. Figure out what they want and play them for all they are worth. They want a sweet young girl, you give it to them. If they want a sexy yet untouchable woman, you hone your craft until they don’t remember you as anything else. Your image, is the most important part you will ever play.' " That gave Rose pause,

"Thats..." She hesitated, searching her mind for a the right word.

"Awful?" Daphne supplied, tone almost accusatory and far to quick for Rose’s taste. As if she had heard the same thing said to her on numerous occasions. Rose shook her head vehemently,

"No! No, no I was thinking sad, how do you who the real you is? Weren’t you a child actress? Did you ever come home one day and forget to drop the act. Or sign up for a sport or club and think, do I really enjoy this or is it the Daphne that everyone wants me to be.” Rose shook her head again in contemplation, missing the surprise that flitted across Daphne’s feature at her words, “I just, I don't think I could do it. It is so much pressure to maintain that. I’d lose the ability to hold a real sense of my own identity."

Daphne perked up. Seeming to relish the change of pace from people criticizing her mother. Her words tumbled out, over eager to get finally say her view. Instead of jumping to her mother defense,

“But don’t we all do that? We play our parts, the perfect daughter, or the rebel to cool for school, the dumb blonde. Everyone has a part to play, trying to please or fit in. I just took my parts seriously, and I got payed for it. But I also crafted my own character alongside the others, compared them to how I thought I would react to the same situations. My mother was flawless in her method acting, always seeking perfection. Well, I like flaws. For me they help flush out a character, thats what make them real. Believable to the audiance. So, I guess it was easier to hold onto my sense of self. I never felt like I was losing it, I've always seen my own flaws and knew who I was.”

They both fell silent, each reflecting upon each other's words. Finishing off their meal, Rose was the one to finally break the silence.

“You said 'was'. She was your ideal beauty, what changed that?” The ease shifted, Daphne stiffening in her seat. Eyes growing somber as she lowered her fork.

“Oh….ah, she died.” It was barely a whisper, and it broke Rose’s heart. Daphne was still so young, just over thirty. A grown woman but still young in Rose’s eyes to feel that loss.

“Oh love, I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Rose clenched her napkin tightly before gaining enough courage when Daphne met her gaze once more to reach across the table. Placing her palm over Daphne’s. “You don’t have to say anymore if you don’t want. I won’t pry.”

“I don’t, I mean I’ve never,” Daphne swallowed hard, “I haven't ever spoken about it before,” Her eyes flitted down to their joined hands. “But I think I could with you. If you can be patient with me.” Rose felt the heat in her face and reached for Daphne’s other hand.

“I’d be honoured if you wished to share something so painful with me. Just know that you can stop at any time Daphne. I’m a good listener and I hope I can help you in any way I can.” Daphne nodded, staring at their joined hands with such intensity, and Rose knew she was gathering all her resolve. After a few minutes of silence, Daphne had willed enough strength to speak, to finally open the door she had locked tight. Had kept closely guarded under lock and key. Defending with a mother bears ferocity Rose knew she possessed.

“She passed away about eight years ago… She, ah, she took her own life.” Rose gasped, one hand leaving Daphne’s to cover her mouth. The other squeezing Daphne’s fingers even tighter, in solidarity, “My mom, well, acting was her life. She was a star on broadway; she sang and danced,” Daphne let out a sad broken smile, “I used to beg to go to her show every night when I was a kid; and I’d attend all her performances when my schedule allowed it. Seeing her on that stage was like nothing else.” Rose nodded in understanding when Daphne trailed off, as her breath hitched.

“After she turned fifty, well the calls to the stage had already begun to ebe but after that they pretty much stopped. She aged out of broadway, no longer center stage material.” Daphne paused once more, emotion tightening its grip on her throat, choking her. Tears pricked hot in the corners of Rose’s eye as she watched Daphne struggling, head tilted back in an attempt to fend off her own tears. Her graceful neck exposed, she was beautiful even in grief.

“Mom, she aged so gracefully, like Helen Mirren or Jane Fonda. Yet she would spend hours staring into the mirror, trying to smooth the wrinkles away. Her voice just couldn’t make the same range it once could. Her body wasn’t able to withstand the long hours and gruelling dances. They wrote such horrible reviews of her last showing, Broadway’s Angel fallen from grace..." Daphne's face twisted in hurt and anger, "Why couldn't they see how wonderful she was, the light that shone from her. It damn near out shone the stage lights." Daphne met Rose's mournful stare.

"That's why inner beauty is so important. They couldn't see it, and they ruined her. What if no one ever sees it in me! I'm so scared Rose." Rose opened her mouth to speak but Daphne cut her off when she cleared her throat.

"I remember that year I’d call her all the time, just to see how she was. I could just sense something was wrong. And, I called her one evening to get her advice on a part, and somehow we got on the topic of how’d we want to go. It was said so offhandedly that I didn’t take it seriously but now I could never forget what she said. How she sounded.” The tears broke free and Daphne wiped at them angrily.  
  
"You don't have to continue love," Rose offered in a voice as soft as a flower petal. Dahpne's voice in comparision was a boot stomping down on said flower, hard and edged with steel.

"No!" Daphne blinked back the tears, and repeated softer as she felt Rose's flinch throught their links hands, "No. I want, I need to keep going,"

"Ok Daphne, take as long as you need." It was acompanied with a proffered napkin, which Daphne accepted. Dabbing at her eyes roughly as she spoke once more,

“She had this commanding voice, it made you listen. She used it then, she said, ‘Daphne. Stage beauty never lasts. I don’t want to fade away, I want to go before I’m no longer remembered. While I’m still regal and beautiful.’. She was so certain, confident. I laughed and told her she would never have to worry about that, she would never not be beautiful. No one would dare to forget her. I joked that I’d want to go out in a blaze of glory, somehow fireworks would be involved. She said she was proud of me and that she knew I could get any part I wanted.” Daphne buried her head in her hands, to stem the flood of tears.

“A week later she was gone. I should have see the signs.” Her words muffled in her palms and Rose made her way around the table before the thought had even finished forming. She took the younger woman in her arms, rocking her gently and stroking her hair. Murmuring soothing words into the chestnut hair as the heaving sobs shook Daphne to the core.

When they slowed, she eased back. Pulling Daphne to her feet and leading her down the unfamiliar halls until she found the star’s bedroom. Coaxing Daphne into a nightgown as she stepped away to turn down the ridiculously soft purple sheets oh Daphne bed. Glancing back over at the star when the dound of shifting fabric lessened. Daphne stood still and slack. Eye fixed on Rose, studing her movemnet. Rose walking back to her, tugging on lax hands. Guiding the brunette over to the bed. Pressing the silk wrapped shoulders until Daphne laid down, grief leaving her on auto pilot susceptible to Rose gentle prodding.  
Tucking in the exhausted woman, tears still leaking unconsciously down stained cheeks. Rose stared down into Daphne’s sad bambi eyes, stroking her hair one last time before. Rose lent down, brushing her lips against Daphne's forehead gently. The gesture bringing a small sob the the surface as Rose turned to leave. Daphne's hand darted out, catching her wrist in a vice like grip.

“Stay,” Her voice shook, horse and cracking, “Please Rose.”

“Of course love.” Daphne relaxed at the assurance. Letting Rose’s wrist slip away as the designer walked around to the otherside of the bed. Pulling the pins from her hair and setting them down with light clinks on the night stand, allowing her hair to fall loose around her shoulders. Kicking off her heels and sliding beneath the covers, she turned off the lamp on the nightstand, lying awkwardly in the dark room in the large king bed. Daphne’s occasional sniffs breaking the silence. Her suit jacket lay downstairs and Rose was left clad in her white blouse and pencil skirt. Not the most comfortable thing to sleep in but she would overlook many things to make Daphne happy.  
Thirty seconds past before Daphne sighed, scooting over to Rose’s side. Placing her head on Rose’s chest without permission and Rose’s arms infolded her naturally, as if it was a regular occurrence. Her face was hot and damp on Rose’s collarbone, and she nuzzled into Rose’s soft bosom. Which made a very comfortable pillow beneath her aching head.

"You, will alway have one person who sees the real you. I think she's wonderful." Rose whispered into Daphne's hair. She felt the othe woman's smile on her skin, and while Daphne remained silent. Her arm snaked around Rose's waist, clutching her in a deaperatly tight hug.

Rose lay awake, unable to sleep until she heard Daphne’s breathing even out.  
Rose’s final thoughts before sleep overcame her was on the wound she had inadvertently opened on Daphne’s heart. One that had been festering for many years. She vitamitly hoped this lancing would allow it to heal properly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feeling Rose had a niggling suspicion Daphne might return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap is a bit shorter  
> as the next flashback isn't quite finished and I wanted to give you all something.  
> Whoo for 2am postings

A sigh of relief escaped Rose’s lips when the crowd was finally signaled entrance back into the Met to enjoy the rest of their evening. The necklace had been found. Rose pushing her way through to the front of the throng none too gently. An elbow happening to find the pompous man's ribs in the process and a smirk fought its way on her face at his cry of pain and muttered curses thrown her way. As such she was one of the first to enter into the room. It was eerie, having only seen the room full, it seemed so empty. Especially with the tidal wave of people behind her, that had held her under, threatened to drown her in its depth until she battled her way to the surface.

Rose found her table, sinking into the chair. Her bones felt heavy and she was exhausted. Her feet hurt from standing in her heels for so long without the ability to pace and relieve some of the pressure. Even lights in the room seemed to buzz, brighter than before and Rose grimace. Rubbing her temples and pulling her shades down to cover her eyes from the glare. Wishing to stave off the incoming headache.   
The napkin sketches from early Rose pulled from her small clutch. They had taken up nearly all of its interior, cradling her glasses in their soft folds. Gazing down at the rough lines, nowhere near her normal standards, but the pen refused to glide smoothly over the fabric. Leaving some lines dark and blotchy and others barely visible. It brought a side smile to her lips. With a jolt, Rose got up, flitting around other tables to gather more unused napkins from neighboring seats. Ignoring the glares shot her way from a member of the wait staff clearing the tables who wasn't Constance. 

Other ideas bounced around her brain, clambering to be brought to reality. A whole collection in the making. Dresses, some more daring than others, a few tops, matching scarves, suits. Rose salivated at the thought of Daphne, wearing slacks and a deep v suit jacket with nothing underneath except an expanse of creamy soft skin. Every article designed exclusively for Daphne, accentuating her loveliness. A spring to summer line.; Rose believed she could work within that deadline.   
  
Minutes passed as Rose sat hunched over, hand rarely stilling. Preoccupied in her own little bubble, time slowing just around her. Heavy and muffling; as if she was underwater. The other guests flowing around her, blurry and muddled as they milled above the surface. It wasn't until the last idea was jotted down that Rose sighed and straightened. Cracking her neck with sharp twists. Letting a groan to rival Daphne as it popped. Relieving the pressure. Rose rubbed the back of her neck, fingers digging lightly at the knots as the napkins drew her gaze. Nearly every scrap of cloth had been covered; totally around 30 pieces.    
Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed as she thought.

Were they all for nothing. Would she bring them to life only to have them sit unworn, the woman they were made for unaware of their existence. Everything hinged on whether she would keep in contact with Daphne after the job. How long she would be able to keep the secret of how the crew had used the actress. How Rose had played a key part. Her feelings were no longer just the immediate attraction she felt upon first seeing the woman in person. Rose had grown to consider them friends, and cared deeply for the other woman. A feeling Rose had a niggling suspicion Daphne might return.    
Said suspicion was currently pounding against the walls of her mind, screaming for her attention. She could barely hear it over her anxiety, who’s whispered words sounded so loud in her ears. But she did feel it, in the beating of her heart and as a dull throb of arousal that coursed through her everything Daphne looked her way. Mischievous glint in those chocolate eyes. Thinking back over all the small moments her and Daphne had shared in the weeks, months really, leading up to the Met Gala, they seemed to point towards a mutual attraction. Rose chewed her index finger as she stared at her sketches, not seeing them. Instead she lined up the memories their past interactions for replay and further scrutiny.    
On their own they had seemed so innocuous, but pushed together under a spotlight their signals blared. Rose pulled memories to the forefront, the ones that made everything almost click into place.

  
  
  


Since their first meeting Debbie and Lou had been very kind to Rose, telling her the words she needed and wanted to hear. Whatever it took to hook her in their line. Gently reeling in the bait, shushing her every protest and concern as she struggled until she was safely in their boat. Debbie had then left her to Lou’s care she she continued to fish. Debbie's first priority was Debbie; Lou's was Debbie. Rose always thought that showed Lou was capable of thinking of others before herself. She liked that. It made her trust Lou. 

Lou, who had sat beside her as she cried at the floor of her own show. Hands running soothingly along her shaking shoulders. As both of the con woman offered her a way out. The solution to all her financial problems.   
Lou, who sat incredible close to Rose as she seductively swiped a throng of photos of Daphne across the tablet in Rose’s hands. A knowing smile left on her face from Rose’s earlier flattering praises of Daphne. As Rose gave her the side eye, unsure if the woman was flirting with her as the low husky voice explained how the Toussaint would be let out of its vaults for The Daphne Kluger.

 

Lou, who watched Rose’s movements from across the first floor every time Rose left the room gifted to her in the first week. A smirk rising every time Rose made eye contact, with a wink thrown in when Rose’s face heated. Causing the designer to flee back to her room rather quickly.

Lou, who held Rose’s hands in comfort while they waited for Penelope until the approach of the star and slickness of Rose’s palm caused her to release her grip.

Lou, who was intimidating in an incredible sexy way. The way she sat, legs spread wide only to shift forward, elbows on her knees as she gave you her full attention. The way she walked, a natural confidant swagger that drew the eye. The way her gravelly tones, could make anyone weak in the knees. Especially when she would silently come up behind Rose as she was sketching designs. Turning the chair beside Rose around to sit on it backwards, chewing her gum with smirk in place as she leaned in to ask Rose what material she planned to use. Causing Rose to nearly leap out of her skin.   
Lou, who found flirting as natural as breathing. The flirting which extended to every woman they adopted into their growing crew and family. Comments about Constance having the best hands she’s ever seen. How Amita’s eye’s shone more than any diamond ever could. How Tammy never could resist sweet words whispered in her ear. Debbie receiving the brunt of it, yet she seemed to play it off. Leaving Rose very confused as she had thought Lou and Debbie were an item.

Lou, who had laid a hand on Rose’s shoulder after the smaller woman had gathered enough courage to confront Lou after a very flirtatious comment. She had caught Rose admiring one of her vests and asked if Rose would like to see what she had on beneath. Causing Rose to splutter in shock and confusion, ‘Are. Are you hitting on me?’ 

Lou explained that she only had eyes for Debbie but loved flirting with woman. They were beautify and deserved to know it, but it was all friendly and if it made Rose that uncomfortable she would stop.

Lou, who had smile a genuine smile, not a smirk when Rose had let out a surprised ‘Oh! Well. I guess that's alright than.’ Before it slide back into place, winking as she offered to model for Rose should she ever feel the urge. It had been so long since Rose had been flirted with by someone she felt comfortable around, and she often found herself flirting back. They became close as the weeks progressed. 

 

Close enough that Rose felt comfortable to point out that Debbie spent a great deal of time admiring Lou’s ass in her tight black leather pants. Especially when paired with black fuck me ankle boots. Perhaps topped with a yellow blouse, and the grey vest; had Lou ever considered wearing an ascot instead of a tie? The glare Lou sent her way could melt steel, and she threatened that if Rose even thought of her in ruffles she would be back on the streets. Hands were raised in mock surrender that night, but Rose couldn’t help but smirk later that week when it appear Lou had a new favourite pair of pants.

They became close enough for Rose to answer truthfully when Lou asked how she could possibly have gotten so far into debt so quickly. She told Lou all about her ex, a young girl of 24 who had been a model in one of her shows. A shameless flirt with silky fire red hair who had put all the moves on Rose. Asking her to coffee, hanging on every word Rose uttered, laughing at every little thing Rose said. Kissing Rose when their cups ran dry, leaving the older woman to shocked to do more than nod as the girl blew her a kiss and motioned Rose to call her with her fingers as she left. Rose didn’t even know her name. Not until the next night, after dinner when Charlotte asked to come in for a night cap.

They were going steady before Rose even finished processing it, and Charlotte loved going to fancy restaurants, finding any excuse to celebrate. Rose followed along behind her unable to believe what this woman saw in her. It felt to Rose as if every time she blinked she owned a new vacation houseboat. Receipts and bills piling up on the kitchen countertop only to be shoved to the floor by Charlotte’s needy hands.  
Rose learned the hard way Charlotte was only in love with her money. She herself hadn’t been more than attracted to Charlotte to begin with. What Rose craved was the attention, the excitement the younger woman brought to her life, so vibrant and full of colour in a world that had been steadily turning grey for so many years. Rose had hoped it signaled the return of her muse, that Charlotte was the spark she needed. That delusion faded the day the bank called and Charlotte had been out the door twenty minutes later on the arm of a young man Rose recognized from the various parties Charlotte threw.  
Lou slammed the utensil drawer closed, sinking down to the floor beside Rose. Plunging her own spoon into the jar of Nutella Rose had opened. Returning the favor with the story of her first heartbreak that was Debbie Ocean, who left her for Claude Becker. It ended with Rose murmuring around the last spoonful of Nutella, ‘That’s so sad. We’re so sad.’ The month passed in a blur before Rose brought up the topic once again.

“I know you flirt with everyone dear, but how can Debbie be so blind.” Rose asked one night with a yawn. They were the only two left awake. Rose because she was sewing the thousands of glittering beads onto Daphne’s cloak and it was taking her longer than it should, unable to get much work done with her nightly dinners with Daphne. Lou, because she didn’t want Rose to fall asleep on the couch with various sharp needles laying around and easy to spill beads that would be a nightmare to clean up. So they had put on My Fair Lady, Lou made popcorn and they curled up on opposite ends of the couch. Periodically Lou would toss a piece for Rose to catch in her mouth as she dared not get greasy fingers. Rose turned out to be very good at the game, much to both of their amusement.

“The only way for a con to trick a con is with honesty. Not the best when you actually want to be honest. Though I think, subconsciously she knows.” Lou threw a piece of popcorn and smirked, “She did propose to me, we’re just waiting on the ring.” Rose almost choked on her morsel.

“Does she know? That you took her comment seriously, that is?” Rose asked incredulously, drinking some water to clear her throat.

“No. But she will.” Lou’s tone was confident as always. Rose tried not to feel disheartened as she thought of her own situation.

“At least your crush isn’t hopelessly unrequited.” Rose stilled her needle with a sigh. Glaring as Lou let out a laugh.

“I would not call your, ‘crush’ unrequited.” Her verbal finger quotes audible enough she didn’t bother with the real thing, idling picking at the dregs of popcorn instead.

“Don’t make fun of me.” Rose’s eyes cast downwards, drawn to the swath of bright pink fabric taking up the entirety of her lap, covering her like a blanket.

“I’m not! Daphne has been flirting with you since the beginning.” Rose gave her a doubtful look and Lou sat up. Placing the empty bowl on the coffee table, “Look you have dinner with her almost every night. You spend most nights up cause you don’t get any work done in your ‘fitting’ sessions. She tells you details about her life Rose, she into you.”

“Maybe she just wants to be friends! I mean that's what friends do right; that's what we do. How do you know it actual flirting?” Rose’s hand half lifted as she looking disappointed and confused.

“Rose. I said something when I realized I was making you uncomfortable. With everything you told me she’s flirting the same amount I do with Debbie,” Maintaining eye contact Lou gripped Rose’s shoulder. Making sure Rose was listening and not letting her anxiety brush aside Lou’s words without consideration, “And, based on how flustered you got when I first started doing so with you, she knows what effect she has. Rose, she hasn’t said anything. In fact I’d say it’s escalated.” Rose wasn’t fully convinced but didn’t reply, instead letting the words worm their way into her mind for later thought.

“This feels different… Then Charlotte. Like it’s real.” Hands that had stilled long ago, picked that the beads. Rose bit her lip and glanced over to Lou, “I’m scared.”

“I should damn hope it feels different, Daphne isn’t a plastic Malibu barbie,” Lou paused, holding Rose’s attention, serious face breaking as she continued, “She’s a real barbie.”

Rose covered her mouth to smother the surprised laughter that burst from her, not wanting to wake the others. Feeling the tightness in her chest ease, as she took in Lou’s immensely satisfied expression. Once she had calmed, enough to feel confident to remove her hand, Lou nudged her with a foot,

“Hey, I get being scared. It felt like I got kicked by a horse when Debbie brought Claude back into this. I, just have to trust she knows what she’s doing.” Licking her lips Rose nodded. Lou was her friend, and had helped Rose through many an oncoming panic attack. The least she could do was help the woman make damn sure Debbie couldn’t take her eyes off Lou the night of the Met Gala.

“What are you wearing to the Gala?” Rose shifted the conversation with the skill of a teenager with a brand new license. With a sudden jerk that left the passenger with a death grip on the seat-belt after being thrown into the door with the rapid change of centrifugal force. Lou’s confusion was evident and her words were hesitant.

“A tux. I’m not going to be among the guest inside, just need to blend in with the crowd outside,” Lou narrowed her eyes in question, “Why?”

“I have an design I’d like to try on you,” At Lou’s raised eyebrow, Rose shot her faux smoldering looked over her glasses, “You did offer to model for me.” Lou chuckled, tipping her head in Rose’s direction as she rolled her eyes.

“I did, didn’t I.” Looking for all the world like she expected to regret having even uttering those words.

“Yes you did. Now, what is Debbie’s favourite colour?” Rose fixed her attention back on to the screen, Audrey Hepburn’s singing filling the lull as Lou thought.

“Blue-green.” She replied softly, “Like the sea.”

“Hmm,” Rose hummed and Hepburn trailed off the last notes of ‘wouldn’t it be lovely,’ “Just like your eyes.” Ducking her head quickly, she returned to her beading, ignoring Lou’s sharp glance and further questioning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You. Are. Adorable,” Daphne took a half step closer and Rose dared not move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, sorry for the wait. Thanks again to all the lovely people who leave comments.  
> I think there will only be one more chapter after this.

Rose sighed, pushing the thoughts away for now and began folding the napkins, neatly tucking them back into her clutch. Time caught up to her then. Her bubble of calm rising to the surface once more. The noise from the people milling about, chatting, came flooding back; triple the volume it had been previous. Rose rubbed at her temples, looking around for a clock. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, lost in thought. There was none, and she didn't feel like speaking to anyone with a watch to ask the time. She had left her phone at the base as it was too large to fit inside her clutch. A fact she cursed about under her breath.  
Her flute was low, and she played with the glass. Twisting it on the table top. Waiting. Constance was to bring her a piece of jewelry to wear out of the Gala. Until then, Rose wasn't to leave her table. Maybe she could flag one of the regular waitstaff down for a painkiller if the nagging throb behind her left eye grew any worse.

Rose wished desperately for her ice pack; to cool her brain down in times like this before it was engulfed in flames. When Rose was but a girl her mother used to place ice wrapped in the faded floral tea-towel from the kitchen on her fever hot forehead. Smoothing her daughter’s wild hair down, smiling when Rose sighed in relief, causing the masses of crows feet that lined her small heavily lidded tired eyes to crinkle. Even during Rose’s most delirious fever, Rose could feel her mother presence. It was one of comfort and safety and never failed to soothe Rose into sleep. Since her mother’s passing over a decade ago, whenever Rose became ill, she swore she could feel her mother with her. A light brush of phantom fingers. A ghostly outline of a figure on the edge of her bed. One that Rose would reach out her hand for, her imagination filling in the feel of a hand covering her own as she fell asleep.  
Rose never mentioned her mother's visits to anyone, people thought her strange enough. Adding seeing ghosts on top of that was something Rose didn’t want to deal with.

Rose cast her gaze around the room. Daphne hadn’t shown her face since that last glimpse Rose caught before leaving with the crowd. Rose could only imagine how much stress and pressure the woman must be under. The security guys grilling her about her every move.  
Daphne was excellent at dodging questions; at playing the part. But could she withstand the questioning when there was one hundred and fifty million dollars on the line? Rose had had the chance to watch Daphne become a character before, and didn’t doubt the woman could handle it.

 

 

 

 

Rose knocked on the plain white door, dress bag held in her arms like a bride. With much love, care and pride. Her sewing bag, a large bulkly thing made of mismatched patches of vibrant colours, left overs from various projects Rose had done over the years. It had been crafted out of necessity when Rose was unable to find a bag suitable enough to carry all the tools of her trade years before. Rose had lovingly sewn on new patches when it was called for, unfortunately she had chosen strips of purple silk for its large looping handles.  
They had been lying nearby and Rose regretted having been too drained to find different strips of material that day. The silk slipped; often. Refusing to stay upon her slim shoulders, and she was constantly readjusting the bag. Rose felt the slippery fabric shift in its tell tale way and she muttered softly to herself.

“No, no, don’t you do it. Omf!” Her arms were full and she shrugged in vain as the strap slipping off her narrow shoulder, catching in the crook of her arm. Its sudden shift in weight jerked her to the side and she stumbled in her heels, kitten as they were, just as Daphne was opening the door. Rose felt hands reach out to catch her forearms in a tight grip, steadying her and she smiled gratefully up at the taller woman over her glasses which had slid down her nose. “Thank you love.”

“Well I’m glad to know I can make people fall over themselves with my mere presence.” Daphne smiled evilly. Her fingers alighting upon Rose’s glasses, pushing the black frames back into place. But she didn’t draw back, instead her hand continued along. Brushing back a lock of escaped hair behind Rose’s ear before cupping Rose’s face, which burned at the intimate touches.

“You. Are. Adorable,” Daphne took a half step closer and Rose dared not move. Frozen by the woman’s expression. Those chocolate eyes were dark and ravishing, hooded lids dusted with smokey eye shadow made the enormous lashes sparkle this close. Daphne’s perfume was making her head spin, and Rose felt as if she was on the carousel she loved to ride as a child. Soft cheerful music, emanated from deeper into Daphne’s home taking the place of carnival music. The gentle rocking of the seahorse beneath her tiny frame replaced by the swaying of their bodies as they wavered, unsure of each other. Her scent reminded Rose of the cotton candy she would gobble down by the stick full. Relishing the sticky sweet cloud as it melted in her mouth, staining her tongue with its flavour for hours. She wondered if Daphne would linger so sweetly upon her tongue if she were to taste her. The plump lips certainly were the right colour, and looked just as delicious. Rose jerked back as she realized how close she had lent to Daphne, gazing hungrily at the woman’s lips. Shaking her head to snap herself out of her stupor. This wasn’t a carnival, she wasn’t a girl and this women certainly wouldn’t appreciate it if Rose had continued to lean up to kiss her. The motion shook Daphne’s hand loose and Rose offered a shy weary attempt of a smile.

“Sorry, Thank you!” Rose struggled to gather her thoughts to the present again. Her large brown eyes flitting from Daphne’s face to the floor and back again, “Would you mind if we stepped inside? This bag is quite heavy.” Rose lifted her arm that supported the bags weight in an awkward shrug.

“Oh! Yes, of course! Come in,” Daphne’s smile didn’t shine with its usually brightness. Rose imagined wishfully that it was edged with disappointment as Daphne stepped aside gesturing for Rose to step past her into the warm sunlit entrance hall. The actress reached out as Rose moved closer, gripping the strap of the hodgepodge bag and revealing Rose of it’s burden, "Thanks again for coming this morning. I could not get out of my even meeting with these producers. Oh, Jesus you weren't kidding, what do you have in here bricks?"

Daphne almost dropped the bag, saving herself and the bag from hitting the floor by mere inches. Rose suppressed a childish giggle at the look of surprise spread over Daphne’s barbie doll features. Daphne gave her a mock scowl in return and Rose decided it best not to mention the near mishap. Turning back round to move further into the two-story townhouse as she spoke,

"No trouble love, it's much easier to sew sequins in the morning light then at night. I must, yes I must have the sun,” Her tone dripping with drama at the statement, before returning to normal, “My eyes get rather sore now a days I'm afraid at my age." Rose joked, laying the gown down across the three kitchen island bar-stool chairs. The kitchen was spacious and clean, with dark granite countertops holding numerous chrome appliances. The imported espresso maker taking up a ridiculous amount of counter space just by itself. Rose smoothed the bag down before turning to face the entrance hall and open archway to the sitting room, intending to relieve Daphne of her sewing bag, only to find the woman very close behind her. Daphne set the bag down gently but it still thumped on the rose pink kitchen tiles. The movement trapping Rose between her and the island.  
A heat spread from Rose’s chest, racing up and down; flooding her cheeks with colour and flowing down to her abdomen. Her mind rapid fired, projecting images into her minds eye of Daphne pressing her into the countertop and kissing her with wanton abandonment. Fingers pushing their way into her hair, dislodging the clip holding it place and sending it tumbling down to click upon the tiles. Ignored by both women as Rose felt the hard granite digging into her back when Daphne pressed fully against her.  
Rose’s breath hitched as she blinked and returned to reality, fingers clutching the chair back behind her like a lifeline.

"What do you have THERE?" Rose indicated to the sheets of paper clutched in Daphne hand. Voice fluctuating in volume as she swallowed hard, pushing her dirty thoughts to the back of her mind, needing a distraction from the woman in front of her.

"Oh,” Daphne glanced with frustration down at the rolls of sheet paper, “A script, I'm auditioning for the new Batman movie. Catwoman, actually." Waving her hand dismissively and Rose crouched down to pull a tub of beads from her bag. They let out a ‘shhhh’ as they shifted in their container.

"Oh how exciting. I remember Michelle Pfeiffer, in the original. A bit different, then your usual movies." Rose paused, her palms sweating, using the excuse of digging in her bag for an extra moment to gather the thoughts. Finally her heartbeat evened out and she grabbed her needle and tread kit, stuffing the cord that held it closed between her teeth. Grasping the garment bag handle from the chairs, as she stood face to face with Daphne once more. Her words were muffled as she spoke, “Shall we sit?” Daphne nodded and Rose made her way past the actress, to what she now considered her spot on the couch.

"You think I can't do it? That I'm only good for romantic comedies?" Daphne’s words were clipped, and Rose looked up started. Pulling the kit free of her lips, word tripping over themselves to make it out of her mouth,

"No! That's not what I meant at all. Just, that it will be exciting! To see you able to show off how much talent you have. You really are astounding!" Daphne preened under the praise, feigning modesty,

"Oh. Well, thank you.” She sank down on the couch next to Rose, laying her head back on the sofa. Turning to look at Rose as she asked, “You don't mind if I read while we do the fitting?"

"Not at all dear. I have the bulk of the large bead work attached already. I just need to do a quick outline of where the smaller beads will go while it hangs. After that it’s mostly sewing, and you won’t be needed for that."

Daphne nodded and they set to work. Rose draping the cloak on Daphne’s shoulders as she stood still, white sheets covered in highlighter in her hand frowning and muttering under her breath as she began memorizing her lines. Rose spread the train, crawling on hands and knees on the floor to follow the train back up, dotting the outline of the beads intended pattern with chalk. Rose absently began to hum as she drew, freehand swirls and flowers. She sat up on her haunches as the pattern made its way from Daphne’s feet, to her waist. Getting lost in the movement of her chalk stick tracing over Daphne’s lower back. A light shiver emanated under her left hand's finger tips when they alighted on Daphne’s hip as she rose from the ground to stand behind the other woman. She kept her hand there as she drew over Daphne’s back and shoulders, her forefinger gently tapping out a rhythm as she hummed.

"Is that... Find me somebody to love?" Surprise emanating from Daphne’s question and Rose looked up to find Daphne staring over her shoulder at her. One eyebrow cocked in amusement.

"Oh sorry, it's been stuck in my head all morning. I didn't mean to distract you love." Rose was sheepish as she finished the last swirl, moving to tuck the chalk behind her ear before catching herself.

"You're not. You know, I had to sing that in a movie I did as a teenager." Rose coughed lightly and looked away, guilty, as she dropped the chalk back into her bag, ”What are you hiding Rose?" Daphne drew out her name in a sinfully gravelly tone until she finally broke.

"I, -may have- been watching some of your old movies." She admitted, flushed and unable to maintain eye contact.

"You’re adorable."

“So you keep saying,” Muttering under her breath as she pulled the cloak from Daphne’s shoulders and sat down, settling it across her lap as she reached for the tub of beads.

"Oh good so you did hear me. You know," Daphne hesitated, "It's easier for me to learn my lines when I read them through with someone. My mother used to do it with me, would. Would you mind?" Daphne’s large eyes bore into her, and how could Rose say no to that face.

"I would be honored" Daphne lit up and rushed from the room. Returning mere moments later with a second copy which Rose took. Setting it beside her on the couch, within view as she strung a needle; tying it off as before she collected the first bead and began to sew.

Daphne paced, arms waving it gigantic motions as she spoke her lines, repeating them in various inflections as she read them from the page. It was not how Rose was used to seeing the actress but as Daphne had her go over the page several times, the movements lessened. Transforming into subtle gestures and mannerisms that brought the character to life. Her voice shifted until all the lines seemed to be spoken with a unique inflection that transformed the woman from Daphne to Catwoman. The actress didn’t even need to look at the pages by the end, unlike Rose who kept getting distracted by Daphne’s monologue and forgot she was supposed to supply the other half.  
Daphne slunk forward, movements feline and sensual. A Cheshire cat grin splitting her face as she reached out a single finger to tip Rose’s chin up as she she uttered her last line into Rose’s proffered face,

“Meow.” Daphne purred and all Rose could do was let out a faint ‘oh.’. Daphne seemed immensely please with herself, and drew back some what, “So what do you think? I’m I Catwoman material?” She released Rose’s chin and sank onto the couch, running fingers through her own locks playfully.

“No one will be able to resist you.” Honesty, admiration and hints of arousal sprung from Rose like a fountain, but Daphne seemed perturbed by her answer.

“I know one who is trying very hard to do so.” Daphne’s brow furrow and she muttered the words beneath her breath as if they were a curse. Rose squinted at her in confusion, unsure who Daphne could mean. What fool would try to stave off advances from Daphne Kluger. The cushion dipped as Daphne scooched closer on the couch, knees tucking up under her, arm resting on the back of the couch beside Rose’s head. Breaking Rose’s thoughts over who she could possible mean.

“Maybe I’d make a better Poison Ivy,” Daphne laughed, laying her hand on Rose’s to still it before the needle it held could secure the next bead. Not that a bead had been sew in the past ten minutes. Rose swallowed nervously, half smiling in agreement as her palms began to sweat and the bead slipped from her grasp. Rose watched it bounce down her leg and land in the carpet as Daphne leaned in, eye half lidded, “After all my lips are so kissable it can be deadly.”

Rose bent to grab the fallen bead before it became lost in the carpet forever, feeling Daphne’s nose brush the edge of her hair as she did so. Plucking it from the floor deftly between forefinger and thumb, she straightened and returned her full attention back to Daphne. The woman wore an extremely frustrated expression. Rose froze in concern, what could have possible annoyed Daphne so much in the amount of time it took to pick up a bead?

“What’s wrong?” Mind reeling as Daphne’s last words registered. How close Daphne had leaned in when Rose had moved. Had Daphne just tried to kiss her. Was it in jest? If Rose had left the bead would Daphne have pulled back at the last moment, laughing as Rose haltingly feigned her own laughter in return.

“Nothing,” It was clearly not nothing by the irritation filling that single word, Rose just stared at her with widened eyes filled with confusion and a hint of fear. Afraid she had ruined Daphne’s joke, that Daphne would fire here on the spot, one week from the Gala. Completely fucking over the crew’s plan. Daphne seemed to realize this and her expression softened, “Really, it’s nothing. Just saw the clock and realized I need to get ready soon. That you would need to leave.” Rose turn toward the large brass wall mounted clock behind her in relief that turned to surprise at how late it had gotten.

“Oh! You’re right, I, I should go. I’ll just pack up then.” Rose tucked her needle in the fold of the cloak. Reaching for the lid to lock the bead securely away, and tossing everything haphazardly in her bag. “I wouldn’t want you to be late on my account,” Daphne waved her off, and expertly placed the cloak inside the dress bag as Rose pick up the last of her scattered belongings and slung the sewing bag over her shoulder.

“It was fun to read. For you. I mean with you.” Rose opened the front door as she rambled, giving a half curtsy as she accepted the cloak from Daphne. Who laughed at Rose’s nerves, “There’s no doubt in my mind you will blow them out of the water.” Rose’s words came to an end and Daphne beamed. Catching Rose’s hand as she stood in on the doorstep, stopping her from rushing away.

“You’re a doll Rose. You’ll read with me again right?” Rose nodded in confirmation and Daphne squeezed her hand, “Great, same time tomorrow?” Once again Rose nodded and Daphne darted forward to plant a kiss on Rose’s cheek before she had time to react. Rose’s brain short circuited, and she stood dazed and un-moving as she rebooted. ‘Daphne had kissed her.’ Her mind was screaming over and over. Frantically, her few remaining functional brain cells pulled forth a reason so she could get out of the seeming endless loop. ‘It was just a friendly peck on the cheek. Get a grip, That’s how some friend say goodbye.’

“Rose?” Daphne questioned, looking concerned. Rose blinked and her vision shifted from staring pointedly at the wall behind Daphne’s left shoulder to the woman’s face. Daphne looked smug. ‘What if it meant more?’

“What? Right! See you tomorrow!” Rose almost shouted as her knees dipped in an unconscious curtsy before she turned on her heels and bolted to the street to hail a cab. She needed to get home before thinking on this further.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t worry Rose, I’ll get you to the church on time.” Her grin was mischievous as she turned the laptop around,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just keep adding to this fic, I wanna post the end chap so bad.  
> Currently sick, yay for feverish writing.

Rose did a double take as she was pulled out of her revelry. Eyes squinting in confusion, her brain tried to interpret what she was seeing. A woman had walked past her table not a moment before, the vibrate red of the gown had drawn her gaze. It pair so well with the dark skin and the wonderful curves accentuated by the dress had kept her gaze lingering a moment longer. Rose’s head cocking left as she observed the figure, pleasantly surprised and interested eyes traveling up from the swaying hips. The smug expression waiting on the woman’s face caused her mouth to drop open. Nine-Ball.

Rose gulped, and tried to take a breath that wouldn’t seem to come. The woman in question, feigned a yawn. Caressing the underside of her own jaw as she did so to gently push it close. Rose snapped her own mouth shut, when she realized it was hanging limply open like an over expressive child. The young hacker certainty cleaned up nicely. Rose figured she could even give Daphne a run for her money. Rose could almost feel the actresses scowl upon her back as she though it, she let out a nervous chuckle.  
Nine-Ball threw her a wink before she disappeared around a corner. Rose scolded herself to stop ogling her colleagues while her lips moved of their own accord to mouth ‘wow’ silently. Wide blinking eyes staring into space at the spot Nine-ball had just occupied. Rose had always been surrounded by beautiful people, it was her job to dress them, but rarely were those same people her friends.

Although she wasn’t able to dress everyone for the Gala, Rose had suggest a few pieces by some of her favourite designers she thought would work nicely for each of them. Leaving them to choose between three or four. Nine-Ball had picked one of her favourites, it brought a soft pleased smile to her lips and a warm pride to her chest. It felt wonderful to have her opinion valued once more after so many years of being cast aside.  
Slowly, oh so slowly these women were melting her down from the numb state Rose had been trapped in, rebuilding her back up until she was able to feel heat again. Gifting her with self control. Pulling her out of the path of the speeding car that was her life from where she had been standing in the middle of the road, watching it approach. Knowing she should move. Needed desperately to move, but had been unable to will her feet to respond.  
Debbie and Lou had metaphorically tackled her to the sidewalk, dusting themselves off and offering her a hand up. Rose knew even if they ended this night in handcuffs and behind bars, she would still be better off. The little joy would have been worth it.

 

“More Champagne Ma’am?” Rose jumped only slightly at the voice. Flicking a quick glance to her left at the waiter. Seeing Constance brought a wave of relief, the night was almost over. Rose nodded, lifting her left hand as her eyes returned to face forward, glazed with crafted boredom. Bubbles clung to the sides of the glass as it filled, the glug of the liquid leaving the chilled bottle sounding extraordinarily loud between them and Rose lowered her hand at three-quarters full. Signalling Constance that was enough and to leave in doing so. The smooth stones of a necklace tickled her palm, where Constance had slipped it as she filled Rose’s glass,

‘That girl really is amazing at her craft,’ Rose thought, sliding her hand along the table toward her body lazily. Rose took a peak as it neared the edge. Diamonds glinted up at her in a thin line, her own lips twitching at the sight as she fought to remain calm. Rose lifted the glass to her lips, taking a sip as her fingers curled around the necklace and lowered beneath the table.  
The sip didn’t stop. She drained the glass in one go, before setting it aside daintily. Her heart pounding and palms sweating Rose uncurled her fist, tiny red imprints were left in her skin from the edges. She smoothed out the strand in her lap admiring the craftsmanship before lifting to clasp the diamond choker around her neck, hands trembling only slightly. Lou would have been proud.  
Or Rose hoped she would be. Doubts nagged at her. What if she wasn’t acting casual enough, or worse was she too casual! Rose licked her lips and nibbled on the soft skin as her fingers fumbled. She could no longer taste any lipstick, she must have worn it away over the course of the night. Yet while they were no longer a light shade of plum, they were reddened by all the nervous biting.  
Rose was struggling to fasten the ends with the adrenaline pumping in her blood like a pounding set of drums. Their rhythm beat steady in her ears, aggravating her headache, and reminding her of the Jumanji theme. Finally she felt the clasp click into place, secure, and Rose quickly stood.

Perhaps a bit faster than necessary but not enough to bump the table as she had in Daphne’s presence. Her dress flowing down to the ground from where it had bunched behind her in the chair. With clutch securely in hand, she lowered her sunglasses once more, lips pursed and made for the front steps. Concentrating on the speed of her steps, not wanting to seem rushed, as she slipped through the crowd; headpiece drifting through the sea of people like a sharks fin. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and Rose was sure that if anyone listened closely enough they would be able to hear it over the noise of the crowd. Perhaps even see her pulse point fluttering beneath her jaw, against the new set of diamonds.

Every time someone brushed against her she flinched, wanting to run. To make a mad dash to the exit, like a rabbit who had been spotted by a hawk and knew it’s life depended on its ability to make it to the safety of the brush in time. The pillared entrance rose into view before her, a poetic version of the lady of the lake and she, Rose Weil, was King Arthur. Both held hers and Arthur's salvation alike.  
The crowd thinned, revealing two security men flanking the large arch door frame at the top of the main staircase as she approached. Rose gave them the side eye from behind her sunglasses, sure they would pull her aside at any moment. They gave her a once over as she approached, and Rose lifted her chin as she felt their eyes on her. Squaring her shoulders and thrusting her chest forth, wishing to appear tall and confident. Yet sure she looked neither.  
The one on the right looked to be about thirty. Short but made completely of muscle, neck as thick as a tree trunk, nodded to her. Rose's nerves twitched as she nodded back, her attention fixed on the men, no longer paying attention to her feet as she tried to keep her posture straight. In doing so her next step caught the back of her own heel, causing her to stumble. Left knee caving, before she regained her balance.

“Are you alright?” The man reached out to catch her arm, and took a step closer. Rose’s back snapped up right and she quickly jerked out of his grip. Letting a nervous laugh escape her lips,

“Fine! Thank you. Dizzy,” Rose cleared her throat, mouth dry as a dessert, as her brain fired individual words and phrases. Waving her clutched in the air, shooing him back to his post desperately. Unable to form long coherent sentences in her panic, “Too much champagne. Right. Good night.”

“Have nice evening Ma’am...” His voice was like a tire driving over a gravel path but his tone was polite. Rose couldn’t bring herself to speak around the panic clogging her throat and dipped her head in an acknowledging nod in return. Gathering her skirt as she passed through the arch, taking the first step, the second and the third. No other hands on her arm, no shouts. Rose glanced over her shoulders jerkily, trying to be subtle. No guards looking back at her or speaking into an cuff mic, just other guests and very few at that. They had returned to watching the other guests that flowed in front of their posting. Halfway down the stairs a sly smile crept onto her face and she relaxed just a little, quickening her pace down the long staircase. The orchestral music that hung in the air lightened and faded. Over taken by the sounds of traffic.

The cold night air struck her heated face and Rose sighed in relief, she was feeling a bit sick to her stomach from all the champagne and stuffy recycled air of the Met. The night air was chilled, tinged with the smell of exhaust. Limos and fancy automobiles idled at the front steps, pumping their fumes into the air. It had never smelt sweeter. Rose kept hold of her dress, lifting its skirt above the dirty sidewalk as she reached the curb, raising her hand for a taxi.

She felt a out of touch, everything was moving so fast around her.  
It was a blur. The yellow cab pulling up along side her before her arm had even finished the first wave. Its tires screeching to a stop in a small puddle left by the earlier rain shower, dirty street water flecking onto her shoes as she slashed through it to stoop to fit into the backseat. Rose listed Lou’s address as she leaned back against the seat, her skirt bunched up like a little girls princess dress. Swallowing her up to her armpits in it’s poof.

Rose almost wept with relief, they had done it, she was going home. The street lights passed by as she turned to stare out the side window, reflecting in her sunglasses. They reminded her of when she was a small girl, sitting in the back of her father’s little white Austin 1100 with her family. Coming back from visiting Aunt Edna. Rose would squint and the lantern lights would dance and bounce in her vision, like the fairies her mother said lived in the front garden were having a ball. Their dancing lulling her to sleep in the back seat beside her brother.

Her thoughts wandered further from home, and she released the tight lease she had held over the past month on her emotions with a heavy sigh. Running gloved fingers over her face. What was she going to do about Daphne. The aching in her chest at the mere thought of the woman was astounding, and the world outside blurred as her eyes grew wet. Today had been overwhelming. So much stress and anxiety, and yet she wished she was going back to Daphne’s town house to share a bottle of wine with the star. Laughing at one of Daphne’s outrageous stories of her time on set. Normally Rose wanted nothing more then to lock herself away from others, before they drained her of what little energy she had left. With Daphne it was different.

Daphne left her high strung, nervous beyond all belief yet was able to bring her back down to a completely relaxed state. After the kiss on the cheek Rose had be wound tight, a coiled spring ready to launch at any small trigger. Unable to sleep, Rose had spent the whole evening, night and early morning embroidering the beads. Thousands upon thousands. Eyes blurring and burning, each blink threatening to send her into a state of unconsciousness but never being kind enough to following through. Getting the last few beads down was a torture, her vision multiplying causing the beads to dance just out of reach of her needle. Her hand trembling slightly from exhaustion and nerves. Her head landed on the back of the couch as she finally tied off the last bead, staring up at the ceiling, thinking how it could really use a fresh coat of paint. Its paint was starting to peel and yellow from age. A large brownish water stain beginning to spread outwards from the corner.

Rose blinked, sighing heavily, pushing her glasses up into her hair. Her back ached and her shoulder were hard as a rock, from hunching over for almost twelve hours. Rose blinked again, frowning as she thought about meeting Daphne in the morning. More like in a few hours she reasoned. What on earth was she going to say to the woman.

'Good morning! I spent all last night thinking of you and how much I want to taste your lips to see if you really are as sweet as you seem!' Rose felt a hand touching her shoulder and slowly peeled her lids open again. It felt like they were covered in grit, grinding against her already sore eyes. She craned her neck to the side, Tammy stood beside her. Brow furrowed and lips turned down in concern as she spoke,

“Were you up all night?” Rose stared at her in confusion, Tammy shouldn't be awake. Tammy may be an early riser but even she shouldn’t be up before 5am.

“What?” Her voice was gravely and horse, throat dry. A metallic clink sounding from behind her caught her attention. Rose looked around, the light had shifted and Amita and Nine-ball were sitting at the pool table. Nine-ball had her feet on the felt as she ate some brightly coloured cereal from a bowl, grinning at Rose’s look of utter confusion. Amita rolled her eyes taking a bite of toast and went back to her phone. Rose shifted just her eyes back to Tammy, breath hitching as she hesitated before speaking, “What time is it?”

“Just after eight.” Rose sat bolt upright, all grogginess gone. Startling Tammy into releasing her grip on Rose’s shoulder. The tub resting on her lap was sent tumbling down, spilling the remaining beads across the floor. Scattering, their plastic shells plinking as they bounced.

“AFTER EIGHT!” Rose cried, her hand clutching her chest the other scratching from her temple to wind its way into her truly wild curls. “Oh no. I’m going to be late!, I’m supposed to meet Daphne at nine, I-” Rose floundered, leaping to her feet, her skirt creased and her blouse barely even half tucked in. The top few buttons of it undone, from when she had gotten to warm earlier in the night. The pink cloak slipped to the floor at her feet and Rose bent at the waist to retrieve it. However it took her three times before managing to grab it. Tugging it close to her chest.

“Oh where is that bag! Why is this happening- I’ll never make it time- I look a fright-” Rose turned in a circle, searching for her garment bag, unable to find it. She was sure she had draped it over the back of the chair last night. Her eyes were hot and nothing was going her way and Rose felt the tears building up. Her breathing coming in rapid gasps, threatening to turn to sobs at any moment. Words trailing off into a whimpered choking sound, she was so tired.

“Rose! Hey, Rose it’s okay,” Tammy’s stern voice cutting into her mass of panic, and Rose stopped her spinning. Eyes wild, a thin shaking hand covering her mouth, Rose stared at Tammy, “Give me the cloak Rose. I’ll find the bag. You got hop in the shower and pull yourself together. Okay?”

Tammy gripped Rose’s shoulder, repeating her question again until Rose nodded hesitantly, handing the cloak over. Allowing Tammy to push her in the direction of the bathroom. Her body on autopilot as she ran up the flight of stairs leaving the three woman exchanging looks in her wake. Tossing her slept in cloths to the floor uncaring as she proceeded the have the quickest shower of her life. Her thoughts of Daphne spiraling in her mind like the water flowing down the drain.  
'I wonder if Daphne was able to sleep last night. Of course she was, she's so put together. It was just a friendly kiss on the cheek, not something to get worked up into a tissy over. You exchange cheek kisses with Anna ever Easter dinner. Get a grip.'

Shutting the water off, Rose pulled back the shower curtain to find a pile of clean neatly folded clothes on the toilet. A pile that had most certainly not been there when she started her shower. Rose tried not to be unnerved that she hadn’t even heard the bathroom door open and close an she wrung her curls free of water. She brushed her teeth with aggressive strokes, swiping the fog from the mirror in a streak to see how much make up she would need to apply. The dark rings glare at her from under red irritated eyes and she sighed. There wouldn't be enough time to cover those completely. Dabbing concealer under her eyes, she smudged her lids with purple eye-shadow, not bothering with a brush. Blinking at herself in the mirror she thought with a frown, 'I look like I belong in a noir film.' Sighing heavily, it would have to do.

Grabbing the folder dress from the toilet seat she tossed it on over her head, loosely doing up the front corset. Snagging a clip she, piled her damp curls atop her head and rushed back down stairs, finding Debbie and Lou in the kitchen sipping coffee. They raised their eyebrows as she tore past them with a barely there greeting. Lou who had been leaning on the counter top, back to the main room, twisted as Rose ran past; coffee mug raising for a sip as she watched the frantic woman.  
True to her word Tammy had her sewing bag and the cloak lined up and waiting by the double doors leading to the entrance.

"Thank you!" Rose called as she stepped into her heavy black boots, not bothering to lace them as she could do that in a cab and slipped on her on her coat Nine-ball ambled over to her, laptop in hand.

“Don’t worry Rose, I’ll get you to the church on time.” Her grin was mischievous as she turned the laptop around, showing Rose multiple tiny windows of New York streets. Rose squinted the the screen, where those traffic cameras, and then at Nine-ball in mild confusion. Nine-ball rolled her eyes and sighed, “Forget it, go meet your Bae.”

Rose was even more confused but after a moment pushed aside thoughts on what a bae was and headed out the door. There was a taxi idling outside for her and she blew grateful kisses towards the warehouse at the girls. Rose gave the man behind the wheel Daphne’s address and told him to step on it. The cab peeled out of the parking lot, leaving exhaust fumes and burning rubber in their wake.  
At 8:57 the taxi pulled up in front of Daphne’s home. Lady luck had been on her side, every traffic light had been green on the way, otherwise Rose suspected she never would have made it on time. She practically bounded up the steps to knock on the door. Greeting Daphne’s chipper face with lopsided smile of her own when she opened the door.  
Daphne stood aside, ushering Rose into the living room, hand on the small of Rose’s back causing the older woman to shiver.

"Sorry I'm late, It was a," Rose chuckled lightly, as she set unzipped the garment bag, "A rather frantic morning, but I manged to finish it."

“What do you mean you finished it? We have two more days scheduled; there's no way you could have possibly- Wow.” Daphne's eyes stopped mid roll and her grin fell. She starred stone faced as the cloak was brought out of the bag, thousands of tiny beads flashing and catching the light. A tinge of annoyance sounded in her voice but was mostly overcome with awe, “You finished all that beading… in less than 24 hours. That's.... Impressive Rose.” Daphne reached out to stoke the swirls once before Rose stepped in close. Reaching around Daphne's neck like a prom date to bring the fabric around to hang upon her shoulders. Rose fiddle with the invisible clasps at the front, smoothing the fabric and stepping back to admire her work.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Rose muttered and rubbed the back of her neck; jerking it slightly to give it a crack, eyes firmly fixed on Daphne's’ collarbone sitting enticingly bare between the folds of the cloak. Out of the corner of her eye Rose could see Daphne’s face, fuzzy but there. The woman’s lips split in a smile, teeth standing stark white against blood red lips, it drew Rose’s gaze before she hurriedly flicked her eyes away. Smugness dripped from that smile. Her mother would have called it devilish.

“A lot on your mind?” Her tone was laced with honey, sticky and sweet. Rose hummed noncommittally as her face flushed. She could still feel the tingle on her warm cheek from soft lips had brushed her. Rose chided herself for behaving like a schoolgirl.

“Right! Well everything looks great. All set for the Gala,” Rose scurried around, pulling the cloak from Daphne in flourish and returning it to its bag, “I’m sure you next few days will be very hectic, don’t worry I have everything ready for you. You don’t need to worry about a thing.” Rose paused, cloak away, and wrung her hands unsure what to do with herself.

"And now you have some free time as the next two fittings wont be necessary." Rose stammered, disappointed that there wasn't an excuse to spend more mornings with Daphne. She had been in the townhouse all of ten minutes and didn't want to leave. The one barely worth noting kiss had left her shaken and unsure; desperate to regain her footing. Daphne was staring at her with big Bambi eyes, sitting on the sofa, chin resting in the palm of her hand. Glossy hair pulled into a quick ponytail that made her look adorable in Rose's eyes.

“Well it seems we have a free hour,” Daphne stated, looking Rose up and down, and popped her gum with smack, teeth bared, “Do you want pancakes? I’ve been craving them. Yoooou wouldn’t happen to know a secret recipe by any chance?” Daphne teased and Rose’s stomach growled, causing them to both laughed. Rose felt the tension ease and she relaxed. This was normal, this she could do.

“I may have something up my sleeve. Come on love,” Rose took Daphne’s hand and led her to the kitchen.

 

“We’re here.” The male taxi driver’s voice broke Rose out of her thoughts and she jolted up right. Opening her clutch, Rose hastily thanked the man and handed over some bills to cover her fare. Opening the door, Rose departed the taxi. Taking small cautious steps over the uneven pavement. Opening the chain link gate latch, it let out a squeal as it moved. Her feet crunched on the bits of gravel surrounding the the building, and she paused on the front step.  
Turning her attention to the sky. The stars barely visible due to the bright lit city, but she could make them out due to the lack of clouds above the water. Wondering what Daphne was doing right now, if she had managed to recover from the nights events. Rose would call Daphne for drinks she decided as she let her eyes slip closed. Enjoying the chill air on her bare shoulders a moment longer before unlocking the door and pushing inside the warehouse. But not tonight. No they had both had too much excitement for tonight. They both needed their beauty rest.


	8. Chapter 8

When she had stepped inside last night it was to an empty building. The place was quite, truly quite for the first time since Rose had moved in. The stillness in the air was heavy, held an unearthly feel. The type of silence that is found in abandoned buildings, the middle of a forest on a narrow trail, in your own home at three AM. It holds a presence of its own, tangible on the back of one's neck and in the shiver it brings. Arriving in a span of a heartbeat, in the moment when ones attention suddenly becomes aware of the presence, the feel of being watched, that their surrounds have changed. That things aren’t as they usually are.

Rose knows the feeling well, like an old childhood friend. Meeting for the first time when her schoolmates decided sneak out to go drinking at the local cemetery, dragging Rose along. They numbered ten in total, a small radio was brought, playing jarringly upbeat music for the place it resided. As the hour grew later the tipsier they all became, or pretended to become in Rose’s case. The first bottle had left her feeling a bit ill and Rose clutched the empty bottle in her hand for the rest of the night, it’s glass too dark to give away it’s empty state. The last thing Rose wanted to do was embarrass herself in front of everyone and end up puking in the bushes at Jolene Patel’s exclusive party. Especially not when Holly Turner, the prettiest and kindest girl in school and Rose’s best friend since learning to walk, had pulled some strings to get her invited.

They lingered into the wee hours of the morning, long after everyone else went home or wandered off to make out in a more secluded area. Rose and Holly wandered themselves, hand in hand deeper into the cemetery. Leaving the sounds of the radio to fade behind. Until they came upon a massive willow tree, it’s leafy branches hung down to the brush the ground. It was quiet except for the faint swish of the branches swaying the the evening breeze.  
Pushing the green curtain aside with childlike curiosity, they entered into the under hang. The air was different and Rose couldn’t help but be reminded of all the tale of portals to the realm belonging to the Fey. But instead of endlessly dancing Fairies, there was a long stone bench standing before two headstones. Both aged and weather worn, engravings worn away by years of wind and rain; ivy draping over their surfaces and moss creeping up from the base.

It became their special spot. Where they came to talk for hours about what they wanted to do with their lives. A place for Holly to get away from her family, where Holly would speak freely of the current boy she had a crush on. Nudging Rose in the ribs to get the nervous girl to spill her own crush. Rose would always panic, face red as a beat, blurting out a random boy’s name who happened to play on the rugby team that year. Warmth flooding her chest as Holly squealed, giving her a bone crushing hug, seeming very please at having gotten Rose to open up.  
It was under the cover of that tree, being witness by the two nameless headstones in the spring that Rose had her first kiss. At Holly’s request Rose had met her at dusk. They sat legs crossed on the flat stone, giggling nervously when ever they made eye contact, knees touching. Holly’s suggestion of trying some practice kisses before their big double date, had been thrown out quickly. Nervously, as if she expected immediate rejection and disgust to fall from Rose’s lips. The shocked expression Holly worn could only be matched by Rose’s own when Rose had blurted out a ‘Yes!’ milliseconds after the words left Holly’s mouth.  
Rose felt the unnatural silence settle around them, giving her courage that she normally never possessed. She surged forward to plant her lips against Holly’s, her hands gripping the other girls shoulders for balance. The weight of the quiet night air pressed down on her back as Rose stared into blue eyes round in surprise, it felt like a hand between her shoulder blades. Urging her forward once more.

 

 

 

Rose felt the heavily silence, comforted by it as she made her way up to her room that night after snagging her jar of Nutella. Closing her door with a light click as she felt her way to the bedside table to flick on the lamp. Enjoying the soft yellow glow compared the harsh bright white of the Met.  
Kicking off her heels, Rose dropped her clutch and jar onto the bed and reach behind to undo the zipper of her evening gown. Sighing was it slid to the floor and she stepped out of it, climbing onto the bed in just her slip. Flopping face first onto the mattress. Thankful she had the sense to stop off at the bathroom to remove her makeup and headpiece before laying down. She never wanted to move again. The bed was warm and so very soft beneath her aching body. Her skin was buzzing with over stimulation as she shifted her head to the right so she could breath easier.  
The curtains of her window where half drawn, the full moon shining down. Illuminating the harbor down below. Rose gazed out the window with unfocused eyes. The silence, the curtains, the pleasant feeling of drifting, she found herself thinking of Holly for the first time in years. Her childhood best friend, her first love, her confidante but never her girlfriend.  
No; in Year 12 Holly had gotten herself a boyfriend, David and had put a stop to their practice kisses. Had moved away to London with him after they graduated. Leaving Rose behind holding pieces of a broken heart. Pieces Rose mended back together with shaky stitches and sheer will. They wrote frequently in the first decade. Less so after that. Yet Rose always received a letter on her birthday, a card during the holidays. Photos of Holly’s children, and congratulations on her shows. Rose knew Holly loved her just not in the way Rose had loved her. It didn't mean it hurt any less. Rose had thrown herself into helping her mother with the small laundering business after graduation. Finding her passion. Holly had been her first muse. Filled with vibrant greens of the willow tree, with the bright blue of her eyes. Her first collection reflected them and the heartache of love lost.

Rose's mind wanders to Daphne. Who Daphne had shared her first with. Was it with a quarterback with a handsome face and dark hair that always fell his his eyes, as cliche as that would be. Was it behind the school bleachers after a match, or inside his car after a cheap date at the local burger joint? Was it soft and sweet, sloppy or disappointing? Would she would think Rose weird for having hers in a graveyard.  
Sighing Rose closed her eyes. Did Daphne also feel peace in silence, in being in a studio or set after everyone else has gone home, in empty stairwells or in the back corners of a library. Did Daphne even understand how much she inspired Rose. Brought colours back into her life, brilliant lively pinks and sweet warm chocolatey browns. The perfection of those colours after so long only seeing shades of grey.  
Rose hummed, and shifted until she was sitting up, resting against the headboard. Tired as she was Rose didn’t wish to drift to sleep just yet.  
Instead she reached for the sketchbook and charcoal pencils laying on the bedside table, flipping to a fresh page. Rose drew. She drew and drew, designs filling the pages. Absently spooning Nutella from the jar as she worked. Fingers smudged and pencils dulled as she shaded that last shadow of Daphne’s silhouette.  
  
Eyes slipping closed, Rose fell asleep on top of the covers. Sketchbook in her lap, charcoal dust and hand prints smudging her once white slip.  
She didn’t wake when the sounds of life returned to the building. She didn’t wake to the numerous footfalls climbing the stairs. Or to the whispered voices of her friends. She did not wake to the sound of her door opening as Lou popped her head in to see if Rose had made it home safely with her piece of their fortune.  
Rose did not wake when Lou made her way over to the bed. Setting Rose’s sketchbook and pencils on the bedside table. Nor when Lou slipped the millions of dollars in diamonds wrapped around her throat into her pocket, before flipping half of the comforter over to cover Rose while she slept.  
She merely rolled over with a murmur as Lou switched off the bedside lamp and crept back into the hall, shutting the door with a click.

 

 

 

Rose sunk into the gaudy russet orange floral chair in the warehouse’s apartment sized main room. Her chair. The one she claimed within the first two days of living there. All the girls knew to leave it vacant after the first few times Tammy chose to sit there accidentally and Rose had awkwardly hovered around before finding a new perch. They agreed it was easier to to move then watch Rose do her dance.  
Placing a small ice pack only slightly chilled onto her forehead, more of a precaution than anything else. The crew was celebrating around her, Amita and Constance sitting on the floor in front of Rose. The smell from their pizza drifting to her nose as she adjusted her shades and leaned back to listen to the conversations taking place. Her head wasn't pounding as bad as she had feared and she managed to return her jar of Nutella to the fridge only a third empty.

“Hey Rose, you want a piece?” Amita asked, and Rose felt the woman’s shoulder brush against her leg.

“Not right now dear. Perhaps later.” The smell was turning her stomach at the moment and she leaned her head back. Listening to the girls chat beside her.

“I’m going to buy a sick loft apartment and Oh! This new board was just released and I’m gonna get me one of those.” Constance exaggerated the O in those and Rose felt her lip quirk at the girls youthful antics.

“Okay. Soooo Brian asked me out on another date.” Amita’s reply was muffled as she took a bite of pizza, “And , after that I’m going to Paris I think. I’ve always wanted to go. Should I invite him? To the city of love; maybe its to forward. But he is really cute.” Both of their laughter rang out at Amita’s idea.

“Got any advice about what's hot there right now? You’ve been right Rose?” A shoulder bumped her leg again as the question was asked, to draw her attention.

“When I lived in Ireland, we would take a weekend trip over, every now and again. Oh and Paris fashion show, but I never saw much of the city during that week.” Rose mused, voice low and thoughtful, “But it was very beautiful and the food was good from what I can remember. Might be a bit much for a second date though.”

Amita didn’t get a chance to respond as the sound of the front door being flung open startled everyone in the room. Rose heard heeled boots clicking across the floor and Amita tapped her leg insistently to grab her attention. As if Rose didn’t instantly recognize the the reverberated around the room in a loud clear tone.

“You are all Fucked.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woman who had provided Rose with such sweet and pleasant dreams last night, as well as a rather pleasurable morning, approached, coming around the couch towards her. Rose leaned forwards. Pulled by the gravitational force that was Daphne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such nice comments. I'm sorry for making you wait so long, especially those who have been reading this since I first started writing it.  
> One more chapter after this. Its been so long since I wrote them I hope I managed to stay true to their characters.

Daphne.

The world seemed to freeze, not a moment ago Rose had been thinking when the best time to call Daphne would be; would 10 am be too soon? When suddenly Daphne was there, in the room with her.

That morning as Rose lay in bed, listening for the sounds of the bathroom being free so she could shower and remove the charcoal dust from her skin, her mind ran wild.

Rose imagined stalking up and down the hallways of Lou’s place, phone in hand, trying to build enough courage to press the call button before her battery died or she worn holes in her shoes. The sounds of her footsteps driving the others crazy in their mostly hungover state until Constance slunk up to her. Pressing call before Rose had time to react and the only thing she could do was stumble out a greeting as Daphne’s silky tones rang through the speakers. Greeting her in return with a purr.  
What would she even say, ‘Hi Daphne, it’s me Rose… You already know that umm. About those drinks…’  
That’s where the second problem occurred. What drinks, where to get them? Would Daphne want to go to the Irish pub that Rose knew of that served the best Scottish pies in America. In Rose's opinion. Was something like that to quaint for Daphne’s tastes. Too public? What if Daphne didn’t want to be seen out with her. Even if it was in a fancy restaurant bar where each glass of wine cost $50.

Rose ran so many scenarios over in her head that morning, finally deciding that her best bet was to bring the wine to Daphne. The star might enjoy an evening in after such a trying night in the less than flattering spot light. It would be quite and they could talk freely without the need of Daphne’s star persona. With just them Rose felt like she had the best chance of her attractions becoming clear. And should her luck hold the star might just give her a shot.  
Reaching for Rose to draw her in for a kiss. But that was imaginary Rose who was brave and charming and not so awkward.

No the real Rose was frozen to the spot as she watch Daphne walk in slow motion admiring the building space around her. Amita was still smacking her leg incessantly, as she tried to reason if it was possible to conger people by thinking to hard about them.

Rose slowly eased herself into an upright position, like prey trying not to draw a predators eye as Daphne stalked forward. Scanning the room and give them all a once over. Rose longed for Daphne to look her way, a friendly conspiratorial wink sent her way. The beating of her heart increased tenfold as Daphne continued on her march, heels clicking rhythmically on the wooden floor. It pounded against her ribs so hard she could feel it resonate in her throat. Choking her along with the panic.

This was much too soon. Rose found herself struggling to think clearly, thoughts jumping around her head like caged rabbits. The woman who had provided Rose with such sweet and pleasant dreams last night, as well as a rather pleasurable morning, approached, coming around the couch towards her. Rose leaned forwards. Pulled by the gravitational force that was Daphne. Unable to help herself she took a deep breath and the scent of Daphne’s perfume struck her.

Opening her mouth to explain everything but found her throat dry and the words unable to form. The roar of blood rushing through her ears was deafening and Rose could do nought but watch as Daphne took a seat on the couch Tammy was residing on. Daphne’s gazed flicked to Rose, freezing her in place with its accusatory nature; raw anger danced beneath the surface of those eyes before being covered once more by the fake airy mask of the starlet.

 

Slowly Rose removed her sunglasses, pleading with her eyes, imploring Daphne to look her way and see that Rose meant no harm. That their friendship hadn't been a lie. But Daphne refused to make eye contact again and Rose’s heart clenched tight.

‘She hates you. You betrayed her trust. She’s come to turn us all in. I’m going to jail and I’ll never get to create again.” She gasped in a breath that was half a sob of relief as Debbie began explaining her deal with Daphne.

‘She wasn’t turning us in. Daphne wanted to be one of us.’ Thankfully none of the girls seem to have heard her intake of breath over the chorus of voices that erupted and Debbie's raised voice, attempting to regain order.  
Then her eyes fell to Amita. Who gave Rose a concerned but questioning stare, eyebrow cocked and head tilted; silently asking if Rose was okay. Leaning back in her chair Rose pulled on a strand of wild hair, twirling it around and around her finger before nodding once at Amita. She was okay. She could feel the cracks on her heart threatening to break open, ready at any moment to snap the treads she had so carefully sew it back together with but they were still holding.

 

Amita gave Rose a doubtful frown, but turned back towards Debbie, shifting closer to Rose as she did so. The woman’s warm shoulder now was a solid pressure against Rose’ shin and Rose zero’s in on it. The touch grounding her to the moment once more.

 

“Wow chilly. Hi Daph, welcome to the team. Lets not all high five at once.” Sarcasm dripping from bubble gum sweeten lips, that even now Rose couldn’t help but stare at, as Daphne gestured around the room with her polished finger, “Plus I’m the one who’s saving your asses from insurance fraud.”

 

“Insurance fraud?” Rose whispered, weary but curious. Silently hoping she had heard wrong as she leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on her knees. Aware that she had drawn Daphne’s attention as she spoke. Debbie had assured her that they wouldn’t be the prime suspects. That they wouldn’t even be a blip on the police’s radar. A shard of anger began to burn in her stomach as Debbie confirmed the people from Cartier has assigned an Investigator to the case of the stolen Toussaint.

 

“Who’s about to look up your ass with a flashlight,” Daphne looked like she was enjoying this, having everyone at her mercy. Lips playing in a smile as she smacked on her gum, watching everyone's panic strained faces. Watching Rose squirm in her seat as she absorbed all the new information flying past her head. Just as she would watch Rose shift beneath her gaze over dinners.

 

“Who!” Rose exclaimed, the stress of this new unveiling temporarily giving her the courage to question Daphne.

 

“Oh, this little Colombo dude, everything but the trench coat, totally on to you.” Daphne answered nonchalantly. Rose felt the world stopped for a moment, panic brushed to the side as the relief that Daphne was speaking to her warmed her body. Until Debbie’s words dumped the icy bucket right back over her head. Causing Rose to pull at her curls, ding her hands deep into the springs and coils as her lungs tightened.

 

All of this shouldn’t be happening, this was not how she thought the day after the heist would go. Rose thought she would at least have a day or two to think before seeing Daphne in the flesh once more. Before the possibility of jail time hung above, an anvil held aloft by a frayed rope, ready to drop and bring her down in the span of a heartbeat. Saliva flooded her mouth and Rose swallowed down the nausea. She felt like she was going to be sick. When she opened her mouth and only words came out she sent up a silent prayer.

 

“Alright, lest we forget; this whole enterprise was to keep me out of jail.” Rose was frankly amazed by how calm she sounded to her own ears compared to the internal alarm bells screaming in her head.

 

“No one is going to jail.” Lou assured her. Rose just shook her head in disbelief and her body slumped, head lulling onto the back of her chair. Burying her face in her hands.

‘This is not happening’ Rose thought, as she stare at the much too familiar ceiling through her fingers in bewilderment, ‘The one chance I had to get out of debt. The one chance I had to go for drinks with the woman that rekindled my inspiration. All gone. Down the drain. All because of one little Colombo man. I don’t even know what that means. Is he Colombian? Does he look like Christopher Columbus?’ Rose rubbed her forehead in annoyance, she could feel her headache treating to take over as the conversation around her filter though her thoughts.

 

“The boyfriend,” Daphne purred and Rose perked up, removing her hand from her forehead. Claude? Now that was someone Rose could get behind going to jail in her stead. Rose felt the tension in the room ease, and her muscle relax enough she could put her shoulders down. Watching the look Lou threw Debbie's way was encouraging for their relationship to say the least.

Rose’s own gaze drifted back to Daphne, who was watching Debbie with admiration. A twinge of jealousy crept up Rose’s spine, and she clenched her fists in her black pants. Daphne should be looking at her that way,

 

“It’s the attention to detail-” Daphne continued, and the voice in Rose’s head screamed,

 

‘I have an attention to detail! I know that you like to sleep late on the weekends which means 9 am. That you prefer spinach over kale in your salads unless there are cranberries involved. Your favourite nail polish colour is called bloody sunrise and that every time you wear it you smile whenever you catch a glimpse of it.’ Rose swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of Daphne. Hair pulled back in a relaxed style, makeup impeccable. The way her jaw worked as she chewed her gum, the light hitting just right. Perfect for a glossy black and white image for a cover of Decor.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Tammy interjected, breaking Rose’s thoughts off, tone holding disbelief and accusation. Daphne pulled back, showing genuine shock and a moment of insecurity. The woman that the star truly was.

 

“I umm, I don’t have many close female friends,” Her voice was soft and hesitant. Rose flinched. Knowing that line had to be directed especially for her, Daphne had a knack for choosing the perfect set of words to drive a point home. It was one of the things that made she such a wonderful actress. All she needed was one poignant line and she could have an audience sniffling in their seats, reaching for the tissues.

Shame burned Rose, causing her stomach to churn and her face to heat. Guilt pooling heavy in her heart. Daphne had admitted she considered Rose a friend, and Rose had used her.

  
  


“You should count yourself extremely lucky. I don’t let just anyone be my friend you know,” Daphne said, casually throwing the word friend out into the air between them as she stabbed into her stack of pancakes. They sat in actress’ kitchen at the island bar stools, batter coated dishes cluttering up the once pristine countertops.

The sun was coming in the window, falling over their shoulders and heating their skin. The air was thick, clouded with the sweetness of warmed syrup. Rose hadn’t felt this at home in a very long time.

 

“Mmmmm is there anything you can’t do,” Daphne licked a drop of syrup from her finger and smiled at Rose softly. Her head resting in the palm of her hand as she stared, eyes wandering over Rose’s face. Tracing every line and crease Rose was sure but she didn’t see any judgement in the brown eyes. Rose shifted in her seat under the scrutiny, cheeks flushing under the praise and flutter the stare was causing in her stomach.

 

“Well, I can’t dance very well, and,” Rose paused as she thought, fingernail scratching at the granite countertop, “I’m also not a very good swimmer.” This prompted Daphne to laugh and Rose gave a half smile in return. Hunching her shoulders sheepishly and bring her hands down to clasp in her lap.

 

“You’re from Ireland, a rock surrounded by the ocean, how can you not be a good swimmer?” There was a feather light caress on her semi-bare shoulder and Rose looked down at the finger slipping beneath the sleeve of her broad scoop necked dress. Wide eyes flicked up to Daphne, who was leaning in closer, a teasing grin on her lips, “I always pictured you as a seaside kind of gal. A massive floppy brimmed hat, big sunglasses and a retro swimsuit you made yourself. Utterly impossible to ignore.”

 

“Oh! Well, I do love the sea. I just happen to sink like a rock. I spent most of my time on the shore, collecting seashells, reading. I did- I suppose wear something along those lines, although it wasn’t considered retro in my day.” Rose’s words trailed off as Daphne leaned in even closer. Her voice deepening to the flirtatious purr that sent shivers down Rose’s spine as she pulled the sleeve down. Exposing Rose’s shoulder blade and neck for her inspection.

 

“Is that where you got these freckles?” Daphne asked, tracing the dusting of light dots on Rose’s shoulder, “Do they cover your entire back?” She was so close that her breath ghosted across Rose’s skin. Rose bit her lip to hold back a small whimper, her neck was so sensitive and she wanted nothing more in that moment for Daphne to bridge the distance between them. To graze her lips over Rose’s pale flesh, planting kisses on every freckle before working her way up Rose’s neck, making her moan.

Rose felt the flush spreading from her neck to down across her chest and she pressed her legs together tightly.

Her head had tilted subconsciously to the side, giving Daphne all the access she could want. What had they been talking about?

 

“What? No- I mean. Yes… Maybe?” Rose’s voice was breathless and she shook her head trying to gather her thoughts, “I haven’t really looked to be honest. They used to, though they've faded quite a lot over the years. I don’t know how you even spotted them.”

 

“I pay attention,” Fingers continuing to trace the neck line of the dress, leaving goosebumps in their wake as Daphne looked up into Rose’s eyes from beneath slowly batted lashes. Rose forgot how to breath, brain stuttering to a halt as she felt Daphne’s bare foot brush against her stocking clad leg.

 

A phone rang, halting Daphne’s movements and the actress’ brow furrowed in frustration. Glancing down at her cell phone laying on the counter beside them, she read the name and sighed. Her foot retreating and her fingers scratching lightly as they withdrew from where they had crept to the other shoulder and begun playfully teasing the other sleeve down.

 

“I have to take this, it’s my agent.” Daphne said regretfully, scooping up the phone and redirecting her burning eyes to Rose, who could only nod as Daphne slide off her stool, “Don’t go anywhere I’ll be right back… Hello Mark, this had better be good.”

 

Rose listened to Daphne’s one-sided conversation as the woman exited the kitchen to pace in the living room. Now that Daphne wasn’t so close her bare shoulder felt chilly and Rose hastily fixed her sleeve back into place. Embarrassment lurching to the surface of the roiling sea of her mind at how exposed she felt all of a sudden. Daphne's fingers had felt wonderful on her skin and she wanted them back, but knew if the touching had continued much longer she would have done something foolish. Like shift those fingers around to her front, to trace down her collarbone and slip beneath the light material, dragging it down to expose her breasts.

 

‘Spazz, spazz, you are such a bloody spazz.’ Rose thought to herself, taking a deep breath. She was much too warm and her mouth had dried up ‘You need to stay professional, think of the mission. Think of the money. Her eyes weren't burning for you. You're imagining it, just like you did with Charlotte.” She couldn’t sit still, not with the tingling sensations racing throughout her body, her nerves on fire. She could still feel Daphne's wandering hands. She wish they had wandered further, all the way down to ease the ache between her legs.

 

Rose stood from her stool, making her way over to the kitchen sink. Turning on the knob on the sink with more force than necessary before wetting her hands beneath the cool spray. The water felt wonderful against her heated skin as she patted at her face and neck. Letting the air dry the droplets as she reach for a glass in the cabinet above, stretching up onto her tiptoes to finally grasp one.

 

Rose could hear Daphne making assurances to the Matt… Mike… as she watched the water swirled into the glass. Knowing she needed to cool off before Daphne came back. She shut the water off before the cup was completely full. Taking a gulp. The liquid feeling of relief instantly soothed her dry scratchy throat.  
Daphne murmured ‘Okay, Goodbye.’ and her light footsteps paced back towards the kitchen and Rose turned around sipping as she watched the archway expectantly.

Daphne entered the room once more, the frown had made a deeper home on her face. Rose stood clutching her glass of water like a lifeline, as they observed each other, the island between them. Rose knew she must look crazed. Skin flushed and still damp from the water and eyes darting around nervously. Rose tried giving a small smile instead.

 

The furrows in Daphne’s brow lessen as she stepped forward. Rose's knuckles turned white around the glass, she was so jittery she was afraid of dropping it but dare not leave her hands unoccupied. They might just cling to Daphne’s hips; pulling them against her own. Bringing Daphne closer, her warm body pressing Rose's lower back into the counter until Daphne got the hit to lift her onto it. Then Daphne would would be the one that needed to look up in order to bring their lips together in a heated kiss.

 

“I’m sorry Rose, Mark needs to speak to me about the Catwoman offer.” Her tone was apologetic, her eyes holding remorse in their depths but her smile was hopeful, “I’ll see you tomorrow right?” She had reached Rose, hands coming to rest lightly on bare arms, rubbing gently with her thumbs. Rose tilted her chin up to meet the taller woman’s gaze,

 

“Of course.” How could she say no when all she wanted to do was make Daphne happy.

 

“I can’t wait,” Daphne beamed and ducked down to plant a kiss on Rose’s cheek almost exactly where she left the last peck not a day before. Then she was gone and Rose was left holding a glass of water in a starlet’s messy kitchen. Wits once more stolen from her.

 

“So you’re becoming a criminal because you’re, _lonely_?” Tammy stressed the last word in utter disbelief, and Rose switched her gaze to Daphne quickly. Just in time to watch the brief look of hurt flick across the perfectly made up face before the cocky smile was back. Daphne’s version of armor. Rose felt her hackles rise and she glared at Tammy with venom.

 

“Well I mean who isn’t sometimes, right?” Despite the earlier anger that played beneath the surface when Daphne first looked a Rose, the star kept glancing at her now. Playing with her scarf as if it was choking her, eyes flitting to Rose quickly before back to Tammy. Each time Rose would meet her gaze, assuring her that she was there.

What she really wanted was to slide over to the couch and sit beside Daphne. Grasping her knee in support, silently telling her that she didn’t have to be lonely, Rose was right beside her.

 

“Are you an only child?” Debbie asked, tone amused, like she didn’t already know the answer and once more Daphne glanced at Rose. Tugging her scarf again, and Rose spoke up, needing to draw the attention away from Daphne and the sore spot that was her family.

 

“So what do we do now?” There was nothing better Debbie like to do then prove her brilliance and without fail Debbie began to inform them of the next steps in the plan. Rose however tuned her out, peaking a glance at Daphne instead. The woman was staring at her face unreadable, not that Rose had ever been very good at reading faces unless they expressed bad emotions. Rose considered this a step up from the anger. Daphne also didn’t appear to be listening to Debbie, instead she mouthed ‘Thank you.’ at Rose.

 

Rose tilted her head in return, a half nod accompanied by a shy smile, before turning back back to pretend to listen to Debbie. It was painful to look at Daphne without knowing if there would ever be a genuine smile directed her way again. The self doubt was starting to build within her and she wanted out of this room, no longer finding comfort that it had provided not an hour before. At this moment it felt like Daphne was sucking the air from the room, making it difficult to breath.  
Rose wished to let Daphne know that she really meant everything she said over the last few months, that she made Rose want to live again. Design something worthy of Daphne’s time.

Yet at the same time, she wanted to run. Wanted all the feelings to stop. It was so overwhelming to have so many bombarding her psyche after some many years of barely feeling anything. Of being numb. It hurt, just as much as it felt wonderful.

 

Debbie had finished speaking and the group was beginning to shift and Amita bless her soul immediately went over to Daphne. Momentarily distracting the star, who had yet to stop watching Rose throughout the entirety of Debbies speech. Rose had sensed her eyes boring holes into the side of her face.

 

“Hi, I’m Amita. Have you ever met Brad Pitt?”

 

It gave Rose the perfect opportunity to slip away from them all, back to the solitude and sanctuary of her room. Where she could shut off. Have a bit of peace and quiet to think things over. Murmuring a soft ‘Excuse me’ Rose stood from her chair and walk as fast as she dared, head bowed upstairs.


End file.
